


The Stone Witch

by Jaycen



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Blood and Violence, F/F, F/M, Gen, Graphic Description, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Past Abuse, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:07:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 38,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27960494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaycen/pseuds/Jaycen
Summary: Waverly sighed. They, ‘for certainly no one would be mad enough to wander into the valley alone... right?’, must be another group after the “Stone Witch” of the forest. Pity that wasn’t her. She couldn’t exactly tell anyone that though.The ACTUAL Stone Witch, or simply known to Waverly as, “That bitch Constance Clootie”, had put a spell on the homestead nearly three hundred years prior.Waverly’s ancestor, the “Great and Powerful Wizard, Wyatt Earp”, wasn’t quite as powerful as he thought he was. Turns out there really IS no greater power on all of Tor than a woman scorned.
Relationships: Jeremy Chetri/Robin Jett, Waverly Earp/Nicole Haught, Wynonna Earp/Doc Holliday
Comments: 8
Kudos: 30





	1. Welcome to the Homestead

**Author's Note:**

> I found that I actually like writing! I’ve gone back and edited a few things. I hope it flows better.
> 
> I’m trying to learn so I am open to any suggestions, for better or worse.   
> You can only learn through doing.  
> Thank you.

It was summertime at the Homestead.

Fall would be approaching fast this year, as June was unusually warm and that could only mean one thing; winter was coming early.

Waverly cooed at the chickens as she waded through their large coop, relieving them of their precious eggs.

Having a steady food source this far out in the wilderness was not only a blessing, but a necessity. Meat from the forest was never a guarantee, but a coop full of hens were worth their weight in gold. 

She adjusted the basket holding the eggs and reached a bit deeper into the furthest nest when her ears suddenly twitched at an unusual sound.

Jerking her head up, Waverly began scanning the horizon, looking for whatever had made the noise. They landed on a lone figure sitting atop the furthest and tallest hill in the valley, a few miles from her current location.

She squinted, the figure looked like a dark colored speck amongst the wheat colored hill.

The horse that the unknown rider was astride made another neighing noise, so far away it was nearly completely lost on the wind. Luckily for Waverly, the valley was cupped by a large mountain range.

A part of this monolithic massif curved into a half bowl shape and neatly encapsulated the valley below on three sides.

Due to its location and height along the valley floor, any sounds along that one hill would be amplified heavily off the walls of the mountain.

Waverly hunkered down a bit further, out of sight from behind the chicken coop. If there was one rider there very well may be more.

Waverly knew no one except her sister could survive out in the wilderness of the valley for long, especially alone, and this stranger had to have come from beyond even that.

Luckily with her home being located where it was, the open foothills leading up towards the mountain were the only way to get to her.

Unless someone was so desperate for what was in the house and her chicken coop that they would risk life and limb to climb hundreds of feet down a craggy, jagged mountain face to reach it. She really did have nice chickens, if she said so herself.

She glanced towards the majestic mountain face behind her, her neck falling backwards as her eyes trailed the rocky slope towards the sky.

The homestead was in the perfect place, defense wise. Lodged in a small valley where the purgatory mountain range encompassed it on three sides, the mountains were so tall that only a fool or a bird would dare look over the side.

The only way out of the valley was at the mouth of it, and that took a few days journey to get there. 

To get to her, the figure must have crossed the multiple tempestuous rivers that were fed directly from the mountain itself spanning the entirety of the valley from one side to the other.

Not to mention the thick, predator infested woodlands between those rivers and the high-rise hill, where the lone rider currently waited.

Waverly knew the figure must have known how perilous the journey in would be.

Wynonna told her that there were multiple signposts running along the road that bypassed the valley just outside the mouth of it, warning travelers there was no exit within and only certain death.

Only a fool would leave the safety of the bypass road and travel into the demonic basin.

Waverly sighed. They, ‘ _for certainly no one would be mad enough to wander into the valley alone... right?’_ , must be another group after the “Stone Witch” of the forest. Pity that wasn’t her. She couldn’t exactly tell anyone that though.

The ACTUAL Stone Witch, or simply known to Waverly as, “That bitch Constance Clootie”, had put a spell on the homestead nearly three hundred years prior.

Waverly’s ancestor, the “ _Great and Powerful Wizard, Wyatt Earp”_ , wasn’t quite as **powerful** as he thought he was. Turns out there really **IS** no greater power in all of Tor than a woman scorned.

According to Waverly’s sister Wynonna, their late father Ward told his two eldest daughters all about the curse and why they would never be allowed to leave the valley that the homestead resided in.

Willa, the oldest of the three, would never tell Waverly anything but Wynonna always shared the stories with her.

Waverly let out a deep sigh and clutched a bit tighter to the chicken coop. Willa. There’s a name Waverly would love to forget.

She did everything she could to leave the valley and the Earp curse behind, including offering up a six-year-old Waverly to the “Lady of the Lake” during one of the worst winters on record.

Waverly still feels a deep boned chill overcome her just thinking about that time. If it wasn’t for Wynonna breaking through the ice to get her, Waverly knows she wouldn’t have made it.

Where Wynonna cried and held her close, Willa screamed and cried as well, but only because her precious sacrifice didn’t work. Willa had always hated her and after a while, Waverly had given up trying to find reasons why.

Sometimes you really can’t change anything with a smile and a wave.

Waverly rolled her eyes and thought about how grateful she was that she didn’t have to deal with THAT anymore.

A tendril of guilt wormed its way into her stomach when she thought such a thing.

‘ _No speaking ill of the dead, Waverly. Or thinking it. Whatever.’_ Waverly looked back towards the high hill in the distance, only to be met with nothing.

Looking around quickly, it became apparent that the person had disappeared. Waverly quickly ran from the chicken coop across the back lot and into the house, dropping a few precious eggs on the way.

Throwing the backdoor open, she lunged under the table in the center of the kitchen and pulled out an axe that Wynonna had fashioned out of a large chunk of rock and wood.

Waverly moved towards the front of the home and carefully looked around one of the heavy wooden shutters that closed over the front window.

The high hill was straight ahead of her and she had a view of nearly the entire thing from where she stood. The stranger still had a ways to go across the open plains now that they had moved down from the top of that hill.

Waverly would be waiting.

…

Nearly two hours of watch later and Waverly finally spotted the scoundrel.

They were on their horse, had clearly just put a fire out based on the steady stream of smoke filtering behind them and was slowly making their way towards the homestead.

Waverly wondered for a second why anyone who was trying to sneak up on her or do bad things would announce themselves so thoroughly with smoke and a slow walk in the open.

Given, there wasn’t much to hide behind to begin with, but going at such a slow pace clearly wasn’t something anyone with bad intentions would do. Right?

A TRAP! It must be!

Waverly left her post at the front window and ran up the steps in the hall towards the second story of the house.

There was a hatch in the ceiling that Wynonna had made so they could get on the rooftop and look for miles past the high hill. It leaked a bit when it rained or during a heavy snowfall, but the view alone was worth it.

Waverly crouched down on the side of the pitched roof and took in the valley. A few more hours and it would be dark.

Wynonna was out there hunting in the forest and wasn’t due back for days unless she got lucky.

The lone rider slowly approached. A large white hat covered their head as they slowly made their way towards the homestead.

Waverly looked around but couldn’t see anyone else in the area. She looked backwards towards the mountain and scanned the massive ridge line.

She was a ways away from the Purgatory Mountain Range and still had to look up at a near vertical line to see the cliff's edge at the top.

No, no one would be coming from that way. To do so was sheer madness and death. She looked back towards the figure and decided that this person clearly wanted to be seen.

 _‘Perhaps I should put on some tea? What if they’re hungry? I haven’t dusted in nearly a week! My first ever visitor and I haven’t even made bread today!’_ Waverly thought quickly with mounting anxiety.

The roof hatch slammed shut behind her as she flew back down the steps and into the kitchen. Her mind raced as she tried to remember all that she knew about proper etiquette. Her anxiety quickly overrode her fear as she began mixing dough and cutting vegetables. She had work to do.

…

As the hours passed, Waverly began to fret. She rushed around the main house, cleaning anything she thought might be even a little dusty.

The tea was staying warm on a ledge near the kitchen hearth and there was a stew bubbling away on a hook over the fire within it.

The fresh bread was nearly done, and Waverly’s stomach was in pure knots.

In the 300 years that the Earp curse had been active, only a handful had ever wandered this far.

Well, to be fair, it was only the last few decades since Ward had gathered up the family and left the front of the valley for the back of it. 

It was nearly impossible for someone to make it through the forest, let alone to the back of the valley where the homestead now resided.

There were many travelers along the road that use to trade and visit the Earp homestead during the first hundred years of the curse.

As time went on things changed drastically. People had begun to whisper and speak of evil things in the woodlands and more and more families had left. Many had begun to claim it was _‘haunted’_ and that the _‘Earp’s were consorting with demons’._

At least that’s what Wynonna said happened. The Clantons were the last to leave and apparently were the most vicious and vocal about their family.

Wynonna said it was because their grandfather use to go off into the woods alone, screaming and shooting all night long. That he would come back yelling about creatures coming out of the mountain. She said he left one day and never came back. 

It wasn’t too long after that, that the caravans stopped traveling the through way road. A couple even told their father that they wouldn’t be doing anymore business with the Stone Witches. 

The actual story of the “Stone Witch” had long been forgotten, the title instead given to the women of the Earp line for consorting with demons.  
Waverly had asked Wynonna once why the women of their line were called witches when it was the men that were acting so weird.  
  
Wynonna had shaken her head and went out to the woods to hunt. Nothing had ever scared Wynonna. Not even demons. 

People had stopped trading altogether eventually, and the only visitors were those who wished to test their meddle against the descendants of the “ _Great and Powerful Wizard,_ Wyatt Earp”.

Waverly shook her head as she realized she hadn’t been paying attention to the location of the stranger.

A knock on the front door startled her so greatly that she knocked over the water pitcher on the table and tried to catch it. The pitcher was juggled from hand to hand until it eventually tipped over, dousing the front of her chemise.

She let out a yelp and the clatter of the pitcher on the kitchen floor covered up the sound of the front door being pried open.

Waverly stared down in shock at her now nearly translucent, thin shirt.

“Well, that’s one way to make an impression.” A husky, sexy and decidedly FEMALE voice rang out from the doorway of the kitchen.

Waverly’s head snapped up and her body shot backwards as she realized this stranger, her first time ever meeting anyone outside of her own family, was now standing in her kitchen.

She scrambled backwards and slipped on the water she had just, unfortunately, spilled.

As her legs flew out from under her, Waverly had just a moment to remember how close she been standing to the blazingly hot hearth.

The fire lightly licked her backside as she suddenly felt a hand grab the front of her shirt, yanking her forward.

Waverly’s chest collided with a solid wall of muscle as strong arms surrounded her, holding her tightly.

She looked up into honey, whisky brown eyes as the stranger gave her a dimpled grin. Waverly shuddered.  
 _‘From the cold of my shirt of course!’_

A hand began moving in slow, small circles on her lower back, causing her stomach to tighten. Heat traveled through her body suddenly, taking her completely by surprise at the visceral reaction she was having to the stranger. Waverly smelled the most delicious scent drifting up from the red headed woman and she breathed as deeply as she could.

The scent of smoke and leather, sweat and something undefinable teased Waverly’s nose. She smelled sweet, like bread dipped in flowers. 

Waverly looked into the eyes of her savior, eyes that held a warmth she had never seen, eyes that were devouring her face as if she wasn’t sure if Waverly was real or a figment of her dreams.

Hot and cold. Her whole body was going hot and cold and her scalp prickled as if Wynonna had just brushed it out with that comb she had made Waverly for her birthday last year.

Who was this mysterious stranger and why did Waverly feel so safe with her? Wasn’t anyone who came into the valley trying to hurt or hunt her family?

Looking up into the captivating eyes, Waverly couldn’t help the small grin that she gave to the woman in front of her.

Golden-dark eyes immediately lit up with an inner light at the sight of her smile and Waverly couldn’t help but respond to it.

 _‘How... I don’t even KNOW this person... how do I feel so comfortable and safe… as if I were standing with Wynonna? ...No. No, it’s different. Wynonna never made my tummy ache like this or made my hair tingle when she touched me... I don’t...’,_ Waverly slowly raised her eyes back to the ones in front of her.

“What?” Waverly shook her head a bit, feeling as if she were slowly waking from a dream.

“I asked if you were alright?” The strangers voice was light and airy, feminine and yet a touch of gravel that made Waverly’s lower stomach clench tightly.  
Waverly didn’t understand what was happening to her and quickly backed away, slipping a bit in the spilled water and latching onto the table.

The stranger kept her hands out and low, as if to catch her should she require it.

Waverly had never had anyone but Wynonna look at her with such concern before, not even aunt Gus. 

Her heart clenched for different reasons at that realization. A wave of loneliness arose so suddenly in her chest that it snapped her out of the spell the strangers voice, touch and smell were weaving.

Waverly turned quickly and moved to the hearth.

She used a cloth to grab the now burnt bread and placed it onto the table. The fire poker was used to move the wood around to lower the flame, stirring the bubbling stew inside.

The strangers gaze never left her back as she moved fretfully around the kitchen, gathering up the tea and preparing it with herbs that tasted bright and fresh. Lemon and mint leaves were pulled apart and crushed in a mortar, quickly added to the bottom of two glasses.

Her Aunt Gus use to grow plants in the garden before she was born. She had taught Wynonna but clearly her sister had better ways to spend her time. Learning to hunt and running through the wilderness were the only things she had ever seemed to care about.

So aunt Gus had taught Waverly how to read and gave her the family gardening Journal instead. Apparently it was an age old family relic. Her aunt had made her swear to protect it and keep it with her at all times.

Waverly didn’t mind. She loved the old book. No matter how many times she read it, it always seemed to be different somehow when she started back at the beginning. She always found something new that she had missed on the previous read.

Waverly was fine with keeping up the day to day responsibilities of the homestead. Wynonna couldn’t stay around or still for long periods of time like her. She was a true wanderer; a child of the forest. 

Waverly wasn’t envious. Not at all.

She was pulled back to the moment as a _‘clank’_ sounded out across the room. The stranger had taken off her white hat and placed it on the table, followed by what looked to be a gun belt holstering two six shooters.

Waverly knew the style, after all, their father had traded a man one night, ‘ _whatever that meant’_ , with their sister Willa for a six shooter and a box of bullets.

Wynonna named it Peacemaker and kept it in the storage box upstairs. It's not like they could use it anyhow.

The number of travelers to trade with is a big fat zero, and bullets didn’t grow on trees. 

_‘Well, it WAS a big fat zero’_ , Waverly looked from the pistol belt towards the now leaning stranger. The woman’s thumbs were hanging off her pants pockets and an eyebrow was raised in her direction.

‘ _Oh. She asked me a question. Oh no. Talk! I’ll talk! I’ll just ask how she is and if her trip here was ok. Ugh is that too general… or too forward? Is asking about your trip considered private information?? I should have asked Wynonna to teach me more social skills! Oh no... she’s looking at me like somethings wrong... what... Oh! Right! Breathe…’,_ Waverly places the shaking glasses of tea she had been holding on the table and then calmly looked the stranger in the eyes with an imperious, regal look.

“I am wonderful, and yourself?”

A few moments pass.

Waverly watched as the stranger’s face transformed from slight worry into startled disbelief.

She let out a jovial laugh and smiled so affectionately that Waverly had no choice but to smile warmly back.

The stranger shook her head fondly as she reached slowly forward with a hand.

“Let me formally introduce myself miss. My name’s Nicole”.


	2. Into the Woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story of Nicole Haught

Nicole loved the trees. The way the leaves shined and shimmered with the sunlight behind them was like watching a crescendo of colors raining down from heavens.

The cart beneath her swaying her body back and forth as it hit the bumps and dips along the road they travelled, lulling her into a quiet serenity.

Her father was a kind man, a doting man. He made sure to get a cart with a hatch in the roof, just so Nicole could spend her days and nights in the back of it, staring up at the sky and stars.

That was when she was in the cart of course.

Nicole sat up and rubbed her eyes. They had been on this road for so long now. It was the main thoroughfare to the busiest shipping port on the entire continent of Cannondale.

Purgatory was the perfect spot for ships to load and unload their merchandise and wares. The waters were incredibly deep, even at the docks. 

Travelling merchants from all over would eventually find their way here, stocking up for long months on the roads, trading with others or selling the wares themselves.

Nicole’s entire family were such merchants. Had been for so many generations that very, very few of their kind could even contemplate staying in one place for longer than a few days.

The cart swayed a bit and hit a particularly vicious bump and Nicole decided she was better off walking with the other children she heard playing outside.

She opened a small door and jumped down, easily landing from the swiftly moving cart as she had done all her life.

She joined up with a large group of children, around thirty of them, and they ran along the incredibly long procession of horses and carts that made up Nicole’s entire family.

The ride to Purgatory was long and arduous, but worth it. The amount of merchandise they could acquire at rock bottom prices would ensure the income for the next year, maybe more, for her entire clan.

Nicole ran up to the front of her family’s cart and leaped onto the front edge, just near where her parents sat holding onto the reins of their horses.

“Father! How much longer until we reach Purgatory?” Nicole shifted her hands to clutch harder onto the side of the swiftly moving cart.

“Nicole! How many times must I tell you to watch what you leap onto? You nearly got caught in the wheel!” Nicole’s mother huffed out while still managing to breast feed her baby brother.

Her vibrant red hair, much like Nicole’s own, caught the mid-morning sun and shone with various colors of golds and reds. Nicole was mesmerized for a moment until her father’s deep, laughter filled voice bellowed out in the crisp mid-morning air.

“Leave the girl alone Flora! You know she is like a little ferret! Getting into everything and running everywhere. Such a curious little one. Nicole, we will be in Purgatory in nearly an hour. Go, play with your cousins and leave your brother to his suckling. Away you miniature beast!” Her father playfully lunged his hand at her, causing her to laugh and jump off the cart in a tumble roll that had her mother giving off a quick shriek, and her father a deep guffaw.

Nicole ran along for the rest of the trip with her cousins, hassling the other parents of various carts and attempting to steal sweet treats from a few.

A large stone could soon be seen by all in the distance. It was a massive thing. Three times what a man is tall and four times as wide, etched with the name of the town and the images of ships and cargo being unloaded from them.

A port town if there ever was one, Purgatory had Docks so long that five ships could anchor to one of them simultaneously. 

Dozens of them were placed strategically to allow the most room for maneuvering without sacrificing spaces to unload. The warehouses outnumbered living quarters three to one and the whorehouses were nearly as many.

It smelled constantly of stale fish and feces. Street urchins and dogs scampered all over, looking for meals or places to lie down. Purgatory was not a place to go for comfort, but for profit.

Nicole heeded the voice of her parents and just like all the other children, scrambled back into her family’s cart. Can’t be too cautious in a place like this.

Her father lead the long procession to a hostel on the far edge of the town, furthest from the ships. It had a large area around back to tie up the carts and a building for housing their horses.

As all the others began the long process of securing their valuables, Nicole’s father entered the hostel. Nicole had walked inside with him and listened as he ensured lodging for the clan for the next three nights.

The sum was hefty, considering the sheer size of her family, but it was worth it for a few nights.

Nicole and her cousins played most of the day away, ate the supper provided by their parents and slept that night under a proper roof. Nicole hated not being able to see her stars.

The next day proved a long and tiresome one for the entire clan. The males and some of the quick tongued females made their way to the docs to begin bartering for the merchandise they would need for the next few years, one if they were lucky enough to sell quickly.

The children stayed behind with the older kids and the rest of the women to play in the large yard and hopefully run off most of their energy before nightfall.

Unfortunately, Nicole had boundless energy and a penchant for sneaking away. She had always been an incredibly stealthy child and there was no place she couldn’t get into. Nicole moved through the shadows of the day as if she were a shadow herself.

She drew no attention and managed to make it all the way to the dockyard by noon.

Nicole watched as dozens of men carried cargo back and forth between the main warehouses and the ships themselves.

She spotted her father and a few uncles gesturing and speaking with a man who looked to own one of the trading ships. She noticed the man had a large pendent around his neck. It caught the light and appeared to shine a faint blue color for just a moment.

Nicole slid back into the shadows and moved further away from the dockyard, down a winding cobbled street that was lined on both sides by pitiful, roughshod housing.

She sidestepped dubious puddles and managed to stop a dog’s bark with a quickly thrown piece of cheese. The sun was high, and a cracked doorway stood just down the small alleyway that was tucked into a small nook.

She never would have seen it if the dog wouldn’t have been there, so hidden away was it.

Nicole stuck to the walls and crept closer towards the doorway, listening to the sounds of the city fading lightly into the background.

Peering her head around the splintered doorframe, she saw three men sitting at a table in a small room. There looked to be a small fireplace behind one of them and a cot in one corner.

The men were speaking in harsh, low whispers. One man caught Nicole’s undivided attention. He was nearly encompassed by the darkness as he was the furthest from the fire, but Nicole could make out a few obvious details about the man.

His hair was shored down, nearly to his skull, on both sides of his head while he managed to make the middle part stand straight up. Clearly, this man was a magic user, as there was no other way anyone could make their hair do such a thing.

Nicole also noticed that he was wearing a large fur coat. The pattern was in such a way that she knew exactly what animal lay across his body.

It was a dire wolf.

She overheard her father tell the stories to the older children one night after she crept out of the cart. He said the wolf was so large that it stood a head taller than any man and teeth so large they could cut a child in half. 

_‘This is a dangerous man’._ Just as Nicole finished her thought, a shout rang out across the narrow space and a dagger was swiftly brought across the throat of the man closest to the fire.

Nicole couldn’t feel the splintered wood digging into her hand as she grabbed onto the door frame in a white knuckled grip.

“Now, now Carl. What did you go and say that for?” The man in the coat’s voice rang out as the throat under his blade tried to gurgle his answer. The fire light caught the large amulet he wore around his throat.

The slightly bluish hue flashing quickly in the darkened room.

Carl’s now lifeless head was roughly thrown forward, banging onto the top of the table. The sound snapped Nicole out of her shock. The hand holding the splintered doorframe jerked forward. _CRACK!_

Two sets of eyes immediately found her own wide-eyed stare.

She ran.

She ran past the now barking dog, down the winding cobblestoned path lining the shabby housing district. She ran through the center of the warehousing district all the way to the hostel where her cousins were now playing a round of game ball.

She snatched open the door to her father’s cart and dove headfirst under her blankets, shaking and panting.

Nicole didn’t know how long she stayed hidden away under those covers. Hours at least.

The call of supper was too much to ignore for her grumbling stomach and she made her way into the back lot where her family gathered around the pots with their bowls out.

She approached her father, pale faced and shaking. He was much too animated while talking to his brothers about their impressive haggling skills to listen to her mumbled words.

He sent her off quickly to her room for bed, saying they will speak in the morning.

It was much, much later that night as she laid near the puppy pile her cousins had created with their slumbering bodies that something finally occurred to her.

Nicole had run, out in the open, straight back to her family.

She did not sleep that night.

…

The next morning found Nicole talking to her father, trying to explain what she had seen. Her father was a strong and kind man, but at that moment his face was anything but.

He knew exactly who Nicole had seen. Bobo Del Ray, leader of the Revenant chapter in Purgatory. Everyone knew he was not a man to be trifled with.

Everyone knew he was not a man at all. Bobo was legendary among the people of Purgatory and with those who passed through it.

There was a chance that Bobo would do nothing. He knew that there was no one who would stand up to or stop him from doing whatever he pleased.

There was no law in Purgatory, only those bound by honor and your word. If you went back on those you more than likely wouldn’t live to see your next sunrise.

But Caius Haught knew one thing; those who prepare are those who survive.

His family packed their belongings and were on the road within the hour. Within two they were far enough away from Purgatory that others had started to move up and ask Caius why they were leaving before filling their carts fully.

By nightfall they were far away from Purgatory and Bobo. A bonfire was burning large and proud and the caravans were parked in a large circle around it.

Songs were being sung by a few who could hold a tune and instruments being played by others who couldn’t.

Children were sleeping or playing or stealing pieces of roasted deer off the spit and being scolded by their parents for being too close to the incredibly hot inferno.

Nicole sighed. She had not meant to cause any harm. She knew she only wanted to sneak about and discover things. It’s what she loved.

The shadows were as close to her as her own hands, a part of her that she could not explain. Nicole moved further up the tree she had climbed. From here she could see the circle of caravans, her whole family moving about or lounging before sleep.

She turned her head and looked towards the long, winding road back towards Purgatory. They were high up on the side of a mountain pass now. The road was so perilously close to the edge.

This was the only spot on the entire road that had an outcropping large enough to pull over and sleep for a night. Nicole knew what was found over the cliffside, as a few sections of the road were quite narrow.

She couldn’t help but poke her head out of the cart window and look. 

At the bottom of the ravine was a large river. Fast and deadly in some places while slow and meandering in others. This section was one of the worst. Sharp rocks jutted out in various places and the currents were so swift that no one could hope to swim it.

None of the children had been allowed out of their parent’s carts along the pass.

Nicole sighed again. All she had wanted was to finally see Purgatory. She had been there every year of her life so far and had never left the back lot of the hostel.

She laid her head against the tree trunk and closed her eyes. She was so tired from not having slept last night.

Height had never bothered her and climbing for her was the same as walking. She felt her body relax for a moment and before she realized, she had fallen asleep.

...

_Clink._ Nicole’s eyes snapped open. They grew even wider in horror as she stared down at dozens of men on horseback lining the road. Her eyes latched onto the one in the very front. Bobo.

Nicole watched the moment his eyes landed on her clans’ caravan. He drew his sword and charged, dozens of men following him.

Nicole’s screams were drowned out by the rushing white noise in her head as her eyes devoured the slaughter of her entire family. Every child, every woman, every man.

The sounds of swords clanging into bone, the ripping of flesh, the shrieks of children being thrown alive into the roaring fire, the bellows of the men as they watched their families ripped apart, only to fall under a sword themselves a moment later.

All these things would haunt her for the rest of her life.

After the men had finished their gruesome task they began to move systematically around the camp, flipping over children around Nicole’s age. A voice yelled across the carnage, “she’s not here”.

Another followed in its wake and another followed that one.

Survival is a funny thing.

Nicole could not feel her body. She could not properly hear or see and the coldness she felt was like a thousand knives all over and yet numb at the same time. Some part of her recognized what was happening.

They were searching for her.

Without thinking any longer, she climbed down. The moment her feet touched the ground she heard, “there she is!” Nicole turned and ran towards the mountain cliff.

She knew she could not outrun them, fight them. They wanted her dead. Her whole family was DEAD.

The last thing Nicole heard as she jumped off the side was a startled curse, far too close for her brain to register.

…

Nicole didn’t know if it was lucky that she had missed the rocks on the fall. The river was colder than she imagined it to be and twice as brutal.

She was pulled swiftly down the river, constantly being pulled under and thrust right back up. If she had not been so numb then perhaps she would have panicked and drowned, but Nicole barely acknowledged anything at this point.

She was swept away for miles down the river, far quicker and further than even her family’s fastest horse could have gone.

Soon the water had warmed and no longer churned away so violently. The sun had come up and a new day began.

Nicole realized at some point she had grabbed onto a piece of driftwood and she laid her head on it. Sleep should not have been possible but at this point she no longer cared about what was, or what was not, possible.

The water was cold again. The sun had been replaced by the moon and Nicole was finally able to breathe a bit without her throat closing in despair.

A small lantern was sat on top of a log just ahead. A soft melody playing on a flute that instantly awoke a feeling of comfort and calmness in Nicole.

The river was barely moving here so she let go of the driftwood and slowly made her way towards the lantern. As she reached the side of the riverbed the music stopped.

All the comfort and warmness Nicole had just felt was instantly replaced with ice and terror. A net was quickly thrown over her and she was bodily dragged up into the grasses.

A horse neighed close by and a rope was quickly attached from the net to the saddle of the horse.

Nicole was able to just make out a figure, dressed in dark greys and greens, just moments before the horse lurched forward into a quick gallop. Nicole was pulled roughly along behind it.

Grass, rock, earth and sticks all made its way through the net and into her flesh. She never uttered a sound.

For long minutes the rider moved at a brutal pace, seemingly unconcerned about the well being of their captive.

Eventually the gallop turned into a walk. Nicole could make out small lanterns dotting around a clearing. Huts and small ramshackle buildings were suspended in the air on wooden stilts, the ground beneath them a muddy mess.

The entire area seemed to be a wetland of some sort.

Trees were large and yet moved and swayed as if they were still saplings. The smell was wild and sweet with sharp, earthy undertones. Nicole could not see another person as she was pulled along at a lazy pace.

The rider just as quickly stopped the horse and unleased the rope from it, slapping it lightly and moving towards the net as the horse cantered off somewhere beyond Nicole’s vision.

The rider pulled out a large curved knife as they crouched down close to where Nicole’s head was currently laying in the mud and grime.

The blade came down quick, slicing through the top of the net as if it were made of butter.

The net forcefully pulled off her, the rider moving towards her feet and grasping the net there, ripping it away from her body and causing her to flip over into the mud.

The rider sheathed the wicked knife and slowly folded the net. They stared at the mutilated back in front of them as Nicole lay face down in the mud.

Throwing the net to the side they grasped both of Nicole’s ankle’s and quickly flipped her over. Her eyes stared at them, unseeing.

The rider met those eyes for a moment, startled. Their head cocking to the side ever so slightly. A few tense moments passed.

The rider kneeled and began to pat down Nicole’s clothes, even removing her boots and flipping them over. They knelt beside her for a moment, as if they needed a second to process what they were seeing.

Through it all, Nicole never uttered a sound.

…

Nicole was bleeding from a cut above her eye. She had mud covering her from head to toe. Sweat was running in rivulets down her back as she stared her opponent square in the eyes, waiting for his next move.

The man swiftly moved his body left catching her right wrist in a lock and moving behind her. His other arm putting her in a headlock while yanking her arm behind her back.

Nicole grunted with the move but let it happen. She knew this fighter and power was what he craved.

Power over people, situations, power in everything. Nicole waited a breath… there! He loosened just slightly, and Nicole twisted her lower body inwards towards the giant wall of muscle, thrusting her right leg back and behind the knee of his left.

She pushed her body just enough to get him off center and ripped her arm from his hold when he loosened it.

Nicole knew she had but a moment as this man was twice her size and multiple times her strength, but she had him on speed. Barely.

Within a heartbeat he was sitting on the ground with a dagger at the base of his skull, staring out at the watching crowd. He slowly raised his hand, a sign of submission, and Nicole sheathed the dagger she had snuck into the fight.

It was only cheating if you got caught. That was the first rule her mentor ever taught her. Well the first rule was ‘ _Don’t die’_ , but Nicole figured that went without saying.

A murmur went through the awaiting crowd as the half giant rose to his feet to stand a full two head above Nicole.

The fight had lasted for days, moving through all manner of terrain. When one was tired, they fled into the surrounding area. Only the most skilled and adept could stay elusive for long. The only way it ended was by death or admitted defeat.

There had never been an admitted defeat during the Trials of the Legion in the history of the Black Badge, the most notorious and deadly assassin’s guild in all of Cannondale.

A trial that only the best among them were permitted to take and only when they were ready to take their place among the Black Badge leadership.

Nicole had just earned her place among their ranks. A path was created in the awaiting crowd as they parted to let the faction leader through.

Ezio was unequivocally known as the greatest assassin of all time. He was chosen by the high council a decade ago to find a hidden place to train the newest and best that Black Badge had to offer.

A decade later and Nicole was now in the position to be able to wear the coveted dark grey and green cloak with the Black Badge face piece. An honor only a handful within the assassin’s guild had ever earned. 

Ezio walked towards her slowly, his face a hardened stone as always. Nicole though, saw his eyes and knew he was proud. She was his first apprentice after all.

The scroll Ezio presented to her was like all others in appearance. Nicole knew that was a falsehood.

These were the scrolls of legion from the Black Badge coven, magically enchanted to capture your blood and essence and seal you to Black Badge for the rest of your life. Everything that you were, are or ever will be would be what Black Badge wanted you to be.

You only killed when and who they told you to kill.

Nicole looked into the eyes of her teacher, her friend, her… dare she say… father.

She walked away.

…

Nicole had been traveling for months. She knew in her heart she had made the right decision leaving the ranks of Black Badge.

Her destiny lies in Purgatory, in the revenant scum that slaughtered her family. Her destiny is leading her to Bobo. She knows she cannot rest until he is dead at her hand.

The betrayal and grief she glimpsed in her teacher’s eyes as she walked away solidified Bobo’s death. Because of him she had been the cause of harm to two families now. It would not happen again.

Nicole paused her horse as she noticed a signpost on this long mountain pass. No exit within? Only Certain death?

Nicole shook her head and signaled the horse to continue walking. ‘ _What the…’,_ She paused again. A feeling unlike any she had ever known overcame her. A need so strong she could not deny it. She… she needed to find something.

Nicole turned her horse towards the valley and slowly entered, shifting her new gun belt slightly and pulling her white hat more fully over her head.

She had to find something… something… or someone.


	3. Primal Awakening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long to post.  
> School had to come first.  
> I truly hope you enjoy the next chapter. 
> 
> Stay thirs... I mean, stay safe my friends.

It was warm. It was never hot here, not in the valley.

The mountains kept the cool air in, even during the hottest of the months. Wynonna never understood the science of it.

She much preferred to take it at face value and work with what she knew, not the reasoning behind it. _‘Like these tracks for example’,_ Wynonna crouched down in the middle of the well-worn path, lightly touching the paw print left in the slightly dampened earth.

Still Warm.

Her prey was not far off and looked to be heading in a direction that Wynonna normally avoided.

The mouth of the Valley.

She remembered when they use to live there, when she was still a child and Willa wasn’t much older than her. Waverly was just a baby then.

Back when mama was alive and Aunt Gus and Uncle Curtis too.

Back when all the different families use to live on their own homesteads and she use to go play with the Gardner girls, Beth and Mercedes, and push their brother Tucker headfirst into the briar patches.

Wynonna’s slight smile turned into a grimace as her thoughts flowed from the girls to the Gardner boy. ‘ _Something was seriously wrong with that shit ticket’,_ Wynonna thought as she continued to follow the tracks to a large rock formation.

The boulders were huge, some easily taller than Wynonna herself.

They looked as if someone had stacked them twenty high in a warped joke of a tower, only for gravity to have them come crashing down again.

The paw prints ended at the crease between two of the boulders, just large enough for a human male to maneuver through if need be.

Wynonna moved behind a tree and thought of her options.

She had been away from home for long enough already. She hated to leave Waverly alone for too long.

She loved her freedom and wandering through the woodlands, but she loved Waverly more, and her sister was anything but a loner.

Wynonna knew the wolf wouldn’t be as much meat as she was hoping to harvest, not even close, but with little else showing itself lately her choice was made for her.

Wynonna carefully moved around the rock formation in an ever-expanding circle, scrutinizing every print, every broken limb or rustled ground.

She closed her eyes and expanded her other senses, her tongue tasting the hint of fur and sweat left by the wolves. The fragrant sweetness of the different types of fauna in the area coated the roof of her mouth.

Her skin felt the prickle of the wind from a certain direction and the slight dampness and sharpness promising a storm before the week was through.

Her ears twitched with the sounds of the forest, the whizzing of the insects and the barely there rushing of the river far off in the distance. Her ears picked up another sound, one coming from inside the makeshift stone home.

A slight whimper and a yelp.

Wynonna knew that sound, having basically been reared by the forest herself, as an incredibly hungry and very young, pup.

Her left hand loosened on the bow it carried and her back straightened marginally.

A heavy sigh escaped her chest. Damnit.

The monsters of the forests were slowly killing the very thing they inhabited.

In all these years Wynonna had never seen a generation barely scrape by like the current one.

Once the monsters took over the forests… ‘ _How long until they cross the rivers to the homestead? To Waverly?’_ Wynonna shook her head and opened the pouch she carried at her side.

She moved silently towards the crevice where the prints disappeared into and laid her last jackalope in the opening.

The whimpering inside stopped and from the depths Wynonna made out two sets of Amber eyes staring out at her.

One vastly larger than the other.

She slowly backed away, keeping her head down, and finally turned and moved to the trail leading away from the starving Dire Wolves and towards the homestead.

Wynonna knew she had a long road ahead of her, and without the rabbit to sustain her, she knew it would take all her strength just to get home.

She sighed again, moving from the main trail into the less traversed foliage.

She hoped it was enough.

…

Wynonna moved higher into the tree, nearly reaching its peak before she was satisfied with her position.

She learned early in life that _risk versus reward_ were the survival rules to live by.

If anything wanted her, they would have to take one _hell_ of a risk.

Wynonna tightened the rope around her waist and thighs, strapping herself in firmly to the thick branch.

She took a moment to settle her senses, surveying the land in front of her. She took out a small spyglass.

She had made it a few years ago from a tin can and a few pieces of polished glass. It only took her four hours to get the different pieces of glass just right to see through it properly.

The tree she sat in was one of the largest in the area and she picked it for that very reason.

The land was splayed out in front of her, the tops of other trees making it difficult to see in some areas but in others she could see clear to the mountains.

The first river was nearly a day’s hard trek forward and from there another few hours to the second one.

It was smaller in width than the first, by half at least, but no less treacherous.

From there it was a full day’s walk to the Big Hill, the one that separated the homestead from the Forest.

A small movement along the top of the Big Hill caught Wynonna’s attention. It was gone just an instant later, but her eyes stayed glued to the horizon.

_‘The shape looked like a horse and rider… a white hat maybe… shit! Double, double shit ton of trouble! If someone made it through the valley and to the Big Hill and they hurt Waverly I am seriously going to feed them their spine through their face! Ok, traveling through the forest at night is a death sentence… but if they hurt Waverly… No choice then. Time to squirrel this ass to the ground_ ’. Wynonna quickly unwound the rope bracing her to the tree and carefully climbed down.

Keeping her senses finely attuned to her surroundings, she carefully started to make her way towards the homestead.

…

It wasn’t even twenty minutes after climbing from the tree that Wynonna heard a branch snap.

Her eyesight was severely limited by the darkness and whatever was out there was downwind of her nose.

She trained her hearing towards the sounds, not moving a single muscle.

Perhaps it was the twenty plus years of becoming so attuned to her surroundings or maybe it was sheer dumb luck, but Wynonna threw herself to the ground just in time to avoid a large figure leaping through the spot she just inhabited.

Claws outstretched and with a mighty roar, the monster slammed into the ground and moved to turn quickly towards its prey.

Unfortunately for the monster, Wynonna has never been too keen on _being_ prey.

Her bow was up, and an arrow loosed before it could fully turn its head, the tip burrowing into its neck and sinking in nearly halfway down the shaft.

A loud shriek filled the night air and another arrow was let loose by the time the first had found its mark.

_THWAP!_

The arrow pierced just behind the left shoulder, sinking deeply into the hide.

Wynonna was moving, running through the trees and dodging over logs and various foliage.

She could hear the creature closing the distance between them. Onward she ran, faster and faster until she could no longer hear the behemoth chasing her.

Taking a chance, she braced against a tree, bringing the bow and arrow up to her eye line.

Nothing. Not a sound.

The forest was silent. …too silent.

A slight movement from the corner of her left eye was all the warning she got before a giant feathered beast crashed its body into hers, sending her flying many feet through the air and sprawling across the dirt.

Her bow having landed somewhere in the various bushes, Wynonna quickly pulled a long dagger from her waistline and locked eyes with the creature.

Roughly the size of bear, slicked back feathers covered its body and its large, oval head cocked side to side studying her.

Its large, yellow eyes stared eerily at her.

Their oversized circular shape adding an unnerving quality to it’s stare.

Talen’s nearly the size of her own dagger dug into the dirt just moments before it launched itself across the space and swiped at her midsection.

Wynonna lurched out of the way and brought her dagger down across its shoulder as a reward for it’s miss.

The creature made a hissing sound as it’s overly large mouth dribbled blood and spittle to the forest floor.

They locked eyes again, a stare down of two apex predators taking place, the air suddenly incredibly thick with intensity.

Both knew in that moment that this was truly a fight to perhaps both of their deaths.

A loud growl reverberated suddenly from the surrounding forest, both the creature and Wynonna jerked their heads in the direction of it, only to see nothing.

Wynonna, never one to miss an opportunity, lunged forward and sank the dagger into the side of the creatures’ neck.

It’s reaction quick and brutal, clamping its teeth into the meaty part of her upper thigh, only to moments later loosen its grip and fall to the ground, dead.

Wynonna quickly retrieved her dagger and went back on the defensive. Her thigh burning and eyes watering with pain.

A small yelp followed a light growl from behind a nearby bush and the dagger was lowered slightly as mother and pup slowly moved toward the dead creature.

The Dire Wolf mother sniffing and pawing the dead beast as the pup made its way toward Wynonna.

Her dagger still at the ready and eyes still on the large wolf as the pup began to rub against her legs.

Even as a pup they were large, the size of a full-grown dog already, and it nearly toppled Wynonna when it rubbed against the fresh bite marks.

The Dire Wolf mother gave a low growl as Wynonna hissed and the pup turned to lick at the open wound.

“Woah, hey, ok little buddy, easy there. I’m all about having a good time but at least catch me dinner first.” Wynonna simultaneously petted the side of the wolf’s head and pushed it away from her wound.

She looked up at the sound of ripping.

The massive she-wolf had torn a large section of feathers away and was greedily digging into the meat beneath.

The pup gave Wynonna’s wound one last lick as it ran to the carcass and began tearing off pieces of meat and devouring it.

Wynonna was torn.

She was hurt and extremely hungry and yet her mind knew that resting anywhere near these Dire Wolves was a recipe for disaster.

She looked around the area with her limited vision and spotted a small hollow in a tree trunk.

It looked as if she could fit in it if she squeezed hard enough. Wynonna began to make her way to the tree when she was stopped cold by something she never thought possible.

The she-wolf stood in front of her with a large chunk of meat in its jaws.

It placed it onto the ground and locked eyes with Wynonna.

She felt something… something move… there, just behind her eyes.

Wynonna began to feel tingles along the base of her spine, causing her to stand up straighter.

Her skin began to prickle and suddenly felt far hotter than it should. She tried to slam her eyes shut, to ward off this… thing crawling around in her skull, but it was futile.

Her eyes were locked on the Dire Wolves and nothing she had ever known could prepare her for what happened next.

…

A power so swift and mighty slammed into Wynonna at such an incredible intensity that she was forced to her knees.

A white-hot, searing pain exploded behind her eyes as metaphysical incisors clamped down onto her neck.

She could feel pressure and pin pricks digging through her skin, every nerve ending in her body screaming out in agonizing pain.

For just a moment, Wynonna let it happen.

She embraced the pain and the pressure and the certainty of her death.

She embraced the knowledge that she would finally be free of the curse and the haunting memories of her childhood with daddy and… _Willa… oh by the God’s poor Willa…. Waverly…_

Wynonna’s eyes hardened as they stayed locked onto the she-wolves.

With every ounce of fortitude in her body, Wynonna slowly stood up. Her hands released from the white-knuckled fists they were clenched in and instead hung by her side.

Her face eased from grimacing to a slackened state. She released all her thoughts and opened her senses as wide as she could and for the first time in her life, Wynonna didn’t close her eyes.

She heard the pup noisily crunching on a bone from the beast’s carcass, birds lightly singing their nightly melodies, the wind moving through the treetops and the sounds of the forest creating a symphony of life.

She felt the air move around her like a road map, felt the moisture, warmth and the heaviness of it.

The clothes on her body felt restricting and tight, itchy and weighted down with the items she carried.

She could smell the wolves and the creature and the foliage, the very heat of the night as it brought out the perfumes of the forest.

She could taste the world on her tongue, the spicy metallic notes in the air from her kill, the sour wildness of the Dire Wolves, the thick richness of the woodland around her.

Her senses were suddenly more alive than ever before.

She looked to the she-wolf and for a moment wondered where she had gone. It was another moment before Wynonna realized that she was so focused on her other senses that she had failed to miss the most important one.

Through her eyes she saw herself standing a mere few feet away, sweaty, tired and bleeding, outlined just like the whole forest in an Amber glow.

The answer slammed into Wynonna harder than the beast had. She wasn’t looking through her eyes… she was looking through they eyes of the mother Dire Wolf.

The pup continued to munch happily on the creature as Wynonna fell to the earth in a dead faint.

…

Wynonna woke up to the sun on her face, a stiffness in her leg and a Dire Wolf pup sleeping soundly next to her.

She took a moment to simply breathe in the air around her, only half surprised to find herself alive. There was absolutely nothing that she had ever come across that could explain what happened to her last night.

Waverly had read every single book that Wynonna had brought from the abandoned homesteads and not one of them ever said anything about something like this.

Wynonna knew that wasn’t saying much, after all, it’s not like they have any means to find out new information, what with being stuck in the valley and the only people who would come here would probably be someone trying to kill them.

Someone who maybe rides a horse and wears a white hat.

“WAVERLY!” Wynonna realized a moment after her scream that perhaps waking a Dire Wolf up in that fashion is not the best idea, pup or not.

The poor thing jerked awake so hard that its paw dug into Wynonna’s already ripped up thigh, sending intense pain shooting up and down her leg.

She yelled and grabbed her thigh to stabilize it as the she-wolf burst through the foliage to asses the scene.

When she realized there was no danger she walked to Wynonna and began to lick at the wound that had begun to ooze blood from the violent jostling.

Wynonna went to push the wolf away when her mind suddenly supplied her with information.

The realization was like a whisper on the wind, fleeting and barely there, but you just knew that you’d heard it.

She allowed the wolf to clean her wound. The pain began to immediately lessen, and the slight bleeding stopped almost instantly.

Wynonna looked at the wolf as it backed away and stared down into her eyes.

There was a connection there, something she had never had before in her life, not even with Waverly.

It was as if she could FEEL what the wolf felt, what she was thinking. Wynonna slowly put her hand out and the wolf calmly walked towards her.

There was no fear from either party. As Wynonna ran her fingers through the thick mane of black hair, she came to the sudden realization that her life had just irreversibly changed.

The pup stretched long and hard and jumped up toward the meager pieces of meat left from the creature.

The Dire Wolf mother gave a low growl and the pup quickly moved off to play on its own. The wolf casually nudged Wynonna in the direction of the meat and Wynonna new it had been saved for her.

It didn’t take long to make a fire.

Neither wolf would get anywhere near it and Wynonna made it up to them by throwing small pieces of cooked meat to the pup.

After bandaging her wound, collecting her things and smothering the fire, she began to make her way toward the homestead.

After an hour or so Wynonna realized that the wolves didn’t seem to be in any hurry to leave her company.

She had to admit that she wasn’t bothered by the idea and it could be beneficial once they got to the homestead.

Wynonna knew she had a lot of time to make up for, the guy on horseback could already be at their house by now after all, but she also knew that if he had done anything unpleasant to Waverly then two Dire Wolves would be the last of his problems.

With that thought, Wynonna increased her speed and tuned in to the sound of rushing water getting closer by the minute.

A calming sense of strength reinvigorated her, and it wasn’t until many miles later that Wynonna realized the burst of energy she received came not from her own body, but from her new companion. 


	4. Hi, I'm Jeremy!

_Journal Entry Mood – Apprehensively Giddy_

_Location – Coal mines just outside of Sakachan_

_Today I made new friends! After leaving Kalagee, I found myself on this road I really wasn’t supposed to be on._

_I got lost, but its ok because I ran into the workers here at the Assini Mines! They’ve been having one heck of a time getting through the rocks in there._

_They had just opened a whole new section but apparently there was a huge wall of Wurtzite blocking their paths._

_I remembered Dr. Reggie making a Potion of Erosion that I thought might work here._

_After all, it had eaten clear through all four levels of the Laboratory and through to the underground tunnels when Dr. Reggie accidentally threw it on the floor. And boy did it sure work here!!_

_It took me a couple weeks to get all the ingredients together and to make it, but the guys here were so nice and patient with me!_

_They are all very short, uh, slightly height challenged, and I need to crouch every time I enter any of the buildings._

_The potion worked like a charm and the Wurtzite was eaten through in less than a week. They said it saved them years of work and apparently its known as the hardest rock in all of Cannondale._

_I_ _was just super happy to help!_

_I’m leaving on the road tomorrow since their employer, a man named Bobo, will be by here to check out their progress. I’m very excited to see where this adventure will take me!_

_I mean, ok, not over the top crazy about going out in the middle of nowhere with nothing on my back except a couple of potions and a short dagger, but hey! Adventure! And, and exercise! Everybody needs that, right?!_

_Oh, God’s I’m terrified._

_I’ve never been out in the real world before! I’ve never had to fight off bandits or muggers or… or… whatever is out THERE. Sigh. But they said I need to leave before Bobo gets here so that’s what I’ll do._

_I’ll leave._

_I’m just grateful they gave me this horse and this dagger to travel with. I’d better get some sleep now. I need to leave super early. I don’t want to make them mad._

Jeremy closed his Journal and ran his index finger along the spine of it.

A very light, golden glow emanated from it and it was sealed once again. Locked from all others who may become inquisitive about its contents.

He held the Journal in his hands, the only thing he had taken of his own when he left the Laboratory.

He still can’t quite believe that Dr. Reggie is dead.

Killed off by his own creation, a mixture of were-beast... and a few other things Jeremy didn’t want to think about, with a healthy dose of ‘crap your pants’ terror thrown into the mix.

Luckily for Jeremy, Dr. Reggie ran the monster clean through with a purified silver sword before succumbing to his wounds.   
  


Jeremy shivered. The beast had still managed to crawl halfway across the room towards him. The wound sizzling and spurting enough blood to finally kill it, mere feet from where Jeremy was standing; on the highest table he could find and wielding a sizable scalpel. 

Jeremy shook his head a bit and placed his hand on the front of the worn Journal in his lap.

His eyes slowly closed as he remembered the first time he held it in his hands…

_  
Flashback_

Jeremy had to pee.

His little bladder hurt terribly and sweat was slowly building along the ridge of his brow from the pain, but also from the anxiety of what will happen if he can’t hold it.

Jeremy knows he has to hold it. He is so close to making Apprentice!

Dr. Reggie said if he can sit here in this closet without moving or making any noise then he will be one step closer to being ready!

Jeremy knows he can do it. He’s done it for so long that he can’t remember ever doing anything else.

Two times a day Dr. Reggie would take him out of the closet.

Two times a day he can eat a bowl of the stew and use the bathroom.

Two times a day he can see what life is like outside of his little closet.

Today could be the day! Any day could! Dr. Reggie said he must learn something called patience and compliance.

Jeremy knows he can do it; he just has to take little breaths and squeeze his hands together real tight.

Today could be the day.

…

It was not the day Jeremy was taken as an Apprentice.

Nearly a week later Dr. Reginald Spalding finally opened a door in the fourth floor of his townhome, known as the Laboratory, and let the four-year-old little boy free for the first time in his life.

Jeremy blinked slightly owlish eyes at the Doctor and gaped at him.

Jeremy understood immediately that something was different.

Everything from the timing of the day to the subtle changes of the Doctor’s demeanor were different. Jeremy couldn’t read, write or speak more than a handful of words, but he was incredibly intelligent.

A genius with unknown capabilities.

Jeremy might not know a lot now, but he knew one thing: Today, was the _DAY_.

Two years Later

“JEREMY! Gather up the Bloodysuckles, Fleshroot and Alliumcyte. We need to extract this poison immediately and… for God’s _SAKE_ boy hurry up! There, NO, put it _THERE_ Jeremy, honestly. Yes, right, extract the poison using the… Jeremy? JEREMY! Were you paying attention to ANYTHING I was saying? I told you to gather the FLESHroot not the fleshREED! How, _HOW_ are you EVER going to be a Master Alchemist if you cannot even tell the difference between a root and a _REED_?!? Hmph. Honestly, some days I have the strongest urge to put you back in that closet. Now, bring those over here and begin the extraction process on this vampiric serpent.” Jeremy quickly moved to put on a pair of thick gloves, grabbed a vial and quickly snatched up the two-foot-long King Vampiric Serpent just behind its head.

The snake had zero reaction time due to Jeremy’s panicked efficiency and in no time at all the six-year-old had managed to get more than half a vial full of toxin from one of the deadliest snakes in all of Cannondale.

Jeremy carefully set the vial upright into its holder and walked the snake back to its glass cage.

He quickly dumped it in and shut the latch closed.

A pair of fangs struck against the now closed glass, droplets of venom dripping down the inside where they made contact.

Jeremy rushed back to the table to cap the vial and moved to where Dr. Reggie was furiously grinding the plants together.

The doctor halted just slightly and snatched the vial from him, pouring its contents into the mortar and quickly resumed his mixing.

The concoction began to steam and sizzle, creating a sour taste to the air that had Jeremy’s eyes watering and tongue swelling in his mouth.

Dr. Reggie transferred the mixture into a bottle commonly used for his potions.

He twisted a stopper into the end of it and quickly placed it over a candle, seemingly not breathing as he waited for something.

The bottle, bright yellow at first, turned slowly into a deep violet with red flecks floating throughout.

The doctors’ face transformed from hopefulness into rage nearly instantly.

A bellowed curse flew from his lips. He turned and hurled the bottle towards the shaking little boy.

Jeremy, being quite use to the doctor’s temper, quickly side-stepped the projectile and as it shattered onto the floor it began to sizzle and steam once again.

The floorboards quickly began to groan, a hole forming where the liquid had splashed. Jeremy walked tentatively over to the hole and peered over the side.

He locked eyes with Jack, the manservant of the house, all the way down on the ground floor.

Jeremy could see a very dim light emanating from the darkness below the first floor and realized he must be looking into the tunnels that Dr. Reggie had mentioned before.

Apparently the tunnel system ran underneath the whole town of Kalagee and were used by its more unsavory inhabitants.

According to the doctor, it had been built hundreds of years ago by a tribe of dwarfs that called the nearby Purgatory Mountain Range their home.

The doctor also said that they buried a great and terrible treasure nearby somewhere, but nobody alive knew where it was.

Jeremy turned at the sound of his name being called and scampered over to where the doctor was rummaging around in an old trunk.

“Here boy. I want you to take this and fill it with knowledge. Everything you learn, good or bad, will go in this. You will eat, sleep and breathe the ways of Alchemy and once you have mastered the basics then I will teach you the art of the Artificer. You must understand something boy, your entire purpose of being is to help me make that which is most coveted. I chose you for a _reason_ , Jeremy. The entire world would know my name if we could create the Potion of Invulnerability. We must always strive for better than we currently are. More knowledge my boy! Now, clean up this mess and make your first entry. It is a sacred bond between a true Alchemist and his Journal. I will leave you to it.” Jeremy clutched the leather-bound Journal tightly to his chest.

The length of it was so large that it started at his neck and ended at his knees.

The thickness gave way to a heaviness that nearly had him losing his grip.

Jeremy held fast.

He refused to drop the only thing he had ever been given. He clutched the book tighter, as if his very life depended on it.

He watched as the doctor left the room and closed the door behind him.

Jeremy slowly moved to a corner where only a few papers haphazardly dotted the floor.

Jeremy placed the Journal down and knelt in front of it. It was a very plain looking thing with no outwardly distinguishable marks.

Except one.

Jeremy looked closely at a seam along the Journals spine.

A line was etched into the crease along it that was just a shade darker than the dusty brown of the leather around it. 

He extended his index finger and ran it along the line.

“OUCH!!” Jeremy quickly jerked his now burning finger back and held it to his chest.

He looked at the line and found it glowing a vibrant reddish gold. The color spread across the Journal, creating intricate patterns and shapes, symbols and numbers.

Jeremy stared in awe as the Journal began to shake and with each movement his finger throbbed and burned as if held to a flame.

He choked back his cries as he watched in child like wonder as the Journal lifted into the air and transformed.

It almost seemed to double in size before it began folding into itself repeatedly until it was roughly the size of Jeremy’s palm.

The covers opened slightly, and the pages inside began to flutter as if a slight breeze were making them dance in time to an unheard song.

Each page glowed, almost ethereally, as they moved to their own beat. Unknown flowing scripts and symbols gleamed on the pages and rippled across them without regard to the natural laws of science.

Jeremy barely acknowledged the searing pain in his finger and he certainly did not recognize the golden reddish tint circling his irises, pulsing in time to the pages as they moved.

The book finally floated back down to the floor and the pain in his finger ebbed away.

After a long few minutes where nothing else happened, Jeremy tentatively reached forward and ran his index finger back down the line.

He felt a small tug near his navel, as if someone had quickly jerked on his belt from behind.

He tried to open the cover of the Journal and found that it would not budge. He picked it up and flipped it over, the Journal now fitting easily into his small hands.

Jeremy laid it back on the floor. His mind ran through all that had happened in such a short time.

His lower lip wobbled a bit and his throat seemed to close slightly. His chest felt heavy and his eyes began to pulsate with a slightly painful pressure.

While a genius, he was still just a child, and in that moment, he truly wished that he had a mother or a father that he could turn to.

One that would hold him and tell him it was ok to be scared, that being scared wasn’t anything to be ashamed of.

Someone who would hold you and say, it’s ok to acknowledge that your scared and that what you do _afterwards_ is what matters.

But Jeremy’s life is no fairy tale, not like in the book he read with the father who said exactly that to his son.

No, Jeremy had Dr. Reggie.

A man who burned the book when he found it and spent the entire time explaining the scientific reasoning behind why some species secrete tears.

Apparently basal tears and reflex tears are the only kind that are needed to keep the eyes moist and free of irritants.

Emotional ones are useless for intellectually superior beings such as themselves.

Jeremy was always grateful to Jack when he occasionally brought him small items from the outside world. He just needed to learn to hide them better.

Jeremy sighed, far more wearily than any child should have to, and ran his index finger down the line once more.

The finger burned, but far less this time. Another slight tug at his navel and Jeremy reached forward and opened the Journal.

It was blank. The glowing sigils and words no longer dancing across its pages.

Every sheet was pristine and crisp.

Jeremy stood up and walked to one of the many tables in the room and reached for a quill and ink pot.

He crossed the room and sat in the corner, propping the Journal up on his knees.

 _‘Dr. Reggie said I should write everything down. That I should fill it with knowledge. Everything I learn, good or bad. Ok. I think I will start with what we did this morning. Clearly that wasn’t the Potion of Absolution that Dr. Reggie thought it would be, so I think I will call it… the Potion of Erosion! Cause it eroded the floor!’_ Jeremy giggled to himself before quickly stopping and looking around for Dr. Reggie.

Shaking his head, he turned back to the Journal against his knees.

He dipped the quill into the ink pot and brought it to the page.

A quick swipe and he was off! Jeremy spent hours writing in his Journal. Every swirl of the quill felt like he was reliving the day all over again.

He suddenly remembered far more than he thought he would, every moment seemed to be seared into his brain with every swipe of the quill.

He not only wrote about every instance, but he felt a yearning to draw as well.

Jeremy had never been very good at drawing but as he looked down, he found himself staring into the eyes of the King Vampiric Serpent.

The likeness of it was so realistic that he flinched back and smacked his skull into the wall.

Rubbing his head, he placed the quill down beside the now upturned ink bottle and began flipping through the pages.

He realized that he had taken up nearly half the pages that were in the book.

His eyes filled with tears and he started to berate himself for not having the forethought to make it last, to take his time and only fill in the important things, not every little detail.

How could he have been so _stupid_?

He knew he wasn’t allowed to own anything personal.

Dr. Reggie said an Alchemist must always be solely focused on their work and possessions or attachments only brought down their power and potential.

Jeremy knew this could easily be the only thing Dr. Reggie would ever give him and now it’s nearly useless.

A tear made its way down his little cheek as he solemnly closed the book and ran his index finger down the spine.

The moment he finished his head started to feel funny. A slow pounding began to build behind his eyes as his heart began to simultaneously race.

Jeremy slammed his eyes shut and squished himself into the corner as all the words and pictures he transcribed began to flip behind his eyelids like a picture book.

He whimpered.

Jeremy remained huddled into the corner for what felt like hours, burrowing as tightly into it as his little body could.

Every letter and line searing its way into his brain. 

Sometime later, a sweat droplet made its way down his temple as he slowly opened his eyes.

The Journal was still there in front of him and the spilled ink on the floor was now completely dry.

Jeremy moved from the corner stiffly and tentatively touched the Journal, lightly shoving it a bit.

Once he was sure it wouldn’t hurt him anymore, he reached out and once more ran his index finger down the spine of his Journal.

A slight tug, a slight tingle and then… nothing.

He opened the cover only to stare long and hard at the empty pages within, all its contents now stored securely in his young, innocent mind.

_End Flashback_

…

Jeremy came back to himself and sighed.

He placed the worn reddish-gold Journal into his backpack along with an extra change of clothes and some rations.

He didn’t know where he would be going come daybreak, but he knew he could never go home.

Dr. Reggie may have been the only thing Jeremy had ever known, but his _experiments_ were certainly known by quite a few townsfolk in Kalagee.

After the doctor had gotten himself killed, Jeremy had left the confines of the Laboratory and began to explore the town.

He had never seen so many people in his life.

The only other people he had ever had any contact with besides Dr. Reggie and Jack were the specimens that the doctor worked on.

The few times that Jeremy saw them they had already been a part of the doctors’ experiments for weeks and usually did little more than stare straight ahead, always with a vacant, dead look in their eyes.

Jeremy shuddered. No, he left that house and the townspeople didn’t want him there.

The torches and screaming made that abundantly clear.

Jeremy knew he was lucky, if there wouldn’t have been that hole made so many years ago to the tunnel beneath, he never would have escaped before the Laboratory was burnt to the ground.

The doctor had decided to create a false floor over the hole leading into the tunnel, just to make it easier for his specimens to be smuggled into the house.

Luckily, there wasn’t anyone in the nearby tunnels as Jeremy was escaping the angry mob.

He was able to move through them to the next opening, an old cellar that was beneath the church.

It didn’t take him very long to find his way out of Kalagee, just him and his Journal.

Jack certainly didn’t end up with the same lucky break as Jeremy did. He winced when he thought of what the poor manservant had gone through.

Jeremy had read about Oyster shells being used to make weapons or jewelry, even to shave with, but did they really have to shave _that_ much off _Jack_?

Maybe a lucky break was too generous when Jeremy thought about it.

After all, if it wasn’t for Jack and the townspeople being so… engrossed in doling out their punishment, then Jeremy wouldn’t have been able to slip into the tunnels.

Jeremy knew the only way forward from here was, well, forward.

He laid down on his mat and pulled the borrowed fur blanket up to his chin. Tomorrow was going to be a turning point in his life.

He just _knew_ it.

…

The next day came and went and nothing out of the ordinary happened.

Jeremy had woken up and left camp after a quick breakfast with the miners.

He spent several weeks crossing rarely travelled terrain and sleeping in a makeshift tent that the dwarves had hobbled together.

Jeremy knew he was very lucky he hadn’t happened upon anyone or anything while traveling yet. He knew loneliness and was quite used to it, but fighting?

Jeremy wasn’t so sure he would survive a confrontation with anyone, let alone some of the things he knew resided in the wilds.

Dr. Reggie use to experiment on some of those very things and Jeremy remembered how terrifying and strong they were, even when they were drugged and half dead.

He subconsciously gripped onto his dagger and subtly looked around.

The mountain pass looked like all the others he had traveled so far.

A bit further up the mountain than them, that’s for sure, but he knew he had to be on the right path.

There was only one road after all, right?

Jeremy sighed and gripped the reigns a bit tighter. He couldn’t wait to get off this road and start his real adventure.

The dwarves had told him of a place far away from here, a place where spirals of white stone stood so high that they pierced the clouds above.

The spirals so full of knowledge that beings from all over the world travelled to them to learn within their conclaves.

Books older than the written words of some languages graced its libraries and all sorts of mythical beings called the spires home.

The city of Agama seemed as if it were a lifetime away.

A horse may be faster than your own feet, but it wouldn’t be of much use when you needed to cross literal Oceans.

Jeremy sighed.

At least he had the beast for now.

The dwarven miners had scrambled together a shoddy, quickly sketched map, allowing him to point the horse in the direction towards the shipping town of Purgatory.

They said that’s where he would be able to find a ship willing to take him across the ocean to Euron, the continent where Agama resided.

Jeremy hoped he would be able to find a way to pay for his travels there.

The miners told him of a few ways he could… compensate the sailors for his passage, but Jeremy was already racking his brain for possible potions or items he could fabricate to trade with.

He realized he had been lucky that all Dr. Reggie wanted him for was his brain, especially with some of the more… unsavory things the dwarves had revealed. Jeremy shuddered.

He didn’t understand how anyone could enjoy hurting another person. Shouldn’t it be _love_ that everyone should strive for?

He always dreamed of a life of love and adventure.

A life filled with friends and family and kindness. If he couldn’t find it with people, then he would find it with books.

Agama seemed like the place to go for people like him. He hunkered down on top of the horse, startling slightly when it moved just a little quicker, and pulled out his empty Journal.

He began to write about his time with the miners and the successful implementation of his potion.

He wrote about his time in the wilds and the plants and animals he had encountered.

Jeremy lost himself for hours within the pages of his book. He did not realize how far off the original path the horse had taken him.

It was nearly nighttime before his bladder began to ache enough that he noticed it. Old habits die hard and all that.

Jeremy looked around quickly for a place to relieve himself and suddenly became wary of where he was. The ragged signpost in front of him made sure of that.

Jeremy looked beyond the wooden post. Being a bit higher up on the road allowed him to see a good portion of the Valley in front of him.

It was massive. Jeremy could just make out what looked to be quite a few dilapidated homes a fair distance from the road.

The large valley was encapsulated by the surrounding mountain range in a rough horseshoe shape, completely enclosed on three sides by the tallest mountains in all of Cannondale.

The sides were so steep vertically that Jeremy shifted uneasily on his horse. 

He could just barely make out two rivers spanning the width of the Valley off in the distance, one clearly bigger than the other.

A massive hill was just beyond those. Jeremy couldn't see beyond that due to the height of it.

He knew it would take days, possibly weeks to traverse this place, even on horseback. And if nothing wanted to eat you for a snack.

God's only _knew_ what was in there. 

His eyes found the various scattered buildings throughout the front of the Valley again.

Even from here he could tell they were all far apart from each other and grungy, as if no one had lived there for generations.

What looked to be pens for animals and enclosed spaces for gardens were now withered and barely standing.

A light fog seemed to start right at the edge of the road and permeate the ground into the valley, as if the road was a barrier of some sort.

Jeremy shuddered and leaned forward a bit in the saddle. He squinted his eyes to read the etchings on the pieces of wood that made up the post in front of him.

“No exit? Certain death? Nope! Come on horsey, keep going. We are not stopping near here! No sirree. Oh, come _ON!!_ Please Mr. Horsey sir? Giddy-up? Urgh, why won’t you GO?!” Jeremy frantically tried to get the horse to move from its statue-like state but to no avail.

He climbed off the horse and moved to the front of it. Jeremy grabbed the bridle and attempted to physically pull the horse further down the road.

The stubborn steed refused to move. Jeremy let loose a great big sigh and started to scour his memory bank for any information he had about horses.

‘ _Horses: also known as ungulates. A mammal with hooves. Can sleep both lying down and standing up. Can run shortly after birth and have a lifespan of around 25 years… has 205 bones in their skeleton… ugh, this is so not helping. Why here. Why in all of Cannondale would this horse choose to stop right…’_ Jeremy’s train of thought slammed to a halt as a sudden desire overwhelmed all of his senses.

 _‘I need to… find… something. Yes! I need to find something! No. Someone. I need to find someone.’_ Jeremy, without thought, reached up and lightly took the reigns in his hand.

He began to walk quietly into the Valley in front of him, into a place that seemed to emanate danger and despair to road weary travelers, warding off any who did not belong.

All of this was lost on Jeremy as he made his way inside.

His footsteps made no sound nor left any tracks behind him as he walked.

A bird swooped low near his head and continued flying without a care in the world, as if it never even saw him.

A squirrel family never faltered in their play as he passed them with mere inches to spare, not a nose nor eye turned in his direction.

Jeremy made his way deeper into the valley, pulling along a horse that was happily following.

He never saw the etchings behind him flash brightly with a slightly bluish hue before fading away, once again looking like an old wooden signpost. 


	5. The dead man's hand

The musty air was thick with whiskey, smoke and perfumed desperation.

The harmonious notes from a small lyre being plucked in a random corner of the room floated over the captivated crowd.

The guitar-type instrument was the only sound currently heard in this establishment.

Considering said _establishment_ was the top earning whorehouse in all of Purgatory, it was clear that something mightily important seemed to be happening.

Every eye in the place, both from the working girls and the men who called on them, were trained on a table sitting in the center of the main room.

Only two people sat at this table; a man who sported quite a large handlebar mustache, and a woman who did not.

John Henry Holliday, also known as Doc, looked up from the cards in his hand to the woman across from him. Kate was a beautiful enigma.

She used to be a working girl, here at the Snowy Swallow.

She had since managed to land herself a wealthy Earl. The man genuinely seemed to love her and had trusted her to sail across the ocean with little more than hired swords to shore up a business deal for himself.

She is also the only woman that Doc has ever allowed himself to have feelings for.

They weren’t much, mind you, but they were there.

Doc was sure she must have spiked his whiskey just to get that fond appreciation out of him, but considering his life, he figured he’d enjoy it while he had the chance.

Doc remembers when he first allowed himself to feel something besides the burning void that constantly threatened to consume him.

It was years ago when Kate was first hired on in this very institution; the notorious Snowy Swallow.

He was on the verge of a black-out drunk after having won nearly his weight in coin from a couple of Dukes who had made the long and boring oceanic trek to Cannondale from Euron.

He needed an outlet from the adrenaline rush of winning all their money, and she was readily willing and available to be generously compensated for all her… skills.

They’ve had a long-standing arrangement ever since.

Purgatory was the perfect haven for a man like Doc Holliday. His life revolved around money, booze, women and being a magnet for trouble.

He never allowed himself to get close to anyone or anyplace.

A true loner he was; had been since he was a child.

He was left alone in a port, just like this one, at an age too young to even remember his parents.

A flash of hair or a whisper of a familiar smell may occasionally churn in his mind but there was never anything more.

What could _never_ be erased from his memory was the unrelenting harshness of the streets. How it had turned his soul bitter and his innocent, outstretched hands red with blood.

You only have two options when you’re a street urchin; predator… or prey.

Doc had never been too keen on being prey.

He did what many young children were forced to. He stole, robbed and even killed when he had no other choice.

The crimes grew in violence, along with his age, until one day he had to walk away. Even _his_ tainted soul had limits.

Somewhere along his desolate, self-destructive path he had found a true love in gambling.

Cards became his specialty.

He set up small games in port towns along the coast, finding that the high turnover rate of travelers suited his repeated visitations to a tee.

Turning the bordellos into his main place of business had been an absolute _stroke_ of genius. 

Having the hard-working women compel the inebriated men to play him a hand or twelve?

Sheer brilliance if you asked him.

Doc would let the fools win most of the hands the first night. After their confidence soared, as well as their bar tabs, he would take around half their money by the next night.

By the third and final night he would empty them clean out.

Having the women there watching them squirm really added to the pressure these men felt to… _perform_.

Involving the courtesans into his scheming ensured the men stayed unaware of his intentions and brought in a larger number of them from which to pilfer from.

The women were given plenty of coin for their troubles, never let it be said that Doc was not generous to the ladies after all, and John Henry walked away from the town with enough capital to last him… well, honestly, to last him until he hit the next watering hole.

Never let it be said that John Henry Holliday was not generous with his drink, either.

…

Doc looked steadily across the table at his partner in crime.

She crinkled her eyes slightly and reached forward, sliding all her coins, jewelry and trinkets into the center of the table.

A loud, simultaneous breath could be heard as the entire bar sucked in oxygen through their teeth.

A newly made Countess, clean off the boat from her new home in Euron, going all in with an obscene amount of her husband’s fortune is enough to make anyone nervous.

Everyone except for the two playing the actual game that is.

Doc’s hand followed Kates’ towards the middle not even a moment after hers had barely retreated.

He smiled devilishly as his equally obscene piles of coins, gems and knick-knacks matched hers evenly in the center of the table.

He stood while holding his cards to his chest. Kate stood and matched his posture and arrogant stance.

The entire bar leaned forward.

Nary a pin drop could be heard and sweat could be seen beading on every forehead.

Never had so much money been at stake, even in a port town such as this one.

A collective breath was held as Doc slowly laid down his hand.

Two black Eights and two black Aces stared up at the crowd. No one bothered looking at the red Queen.

The dead man’s hand.

A nervous shuffling could be heard throughout. A tight foreboding spread throughout the main room.

Sailors were a superstitious lot.

The people of Purgatory followed in their beliefs.

Being the largest port town in all of Cannondale meant more sailor’s and merchants flowed through their settlement than anyone else.

It came with the territory.

Kate’s face blankly looked at the cards on the table.

She slowly raised her eyes towards Doc’s and met the sparkling blues with her own solemn brown.

She knew he thought superstitions to be ridiculous. She wasn’t so sure.

Kate slowly laid her cards down upon the table. The throng of people set their eyes on a full house, Kings over tens. 

Doc’s face turned into one of disbelief.

He slowly sat down while staring at the cards in front of him. He took off his hat and ran his fingers slowly through his hair.

Kate held up her hand and a young girl, no older than twelve, moved forward with a satchel and began slowly filling it with Kate’s winnings.

The entire bordello seemed to be stuck in an eerie silence, as if even a loud breath would cause the earth to rumble and the sky to fall.

The girl cleared the table and moved back behind Kate, waiting on the newly minted aristocrat to make her next move.

Kate slowly moved her chair forward under the table.

She met Doc’s eyes for a single moment, so much being said, and she signaled the girl to follow as she left the building.

Two bodyguards, both heavily armed, followed in their wake.

Doc startled a bit as a large whiskey was placed in front of him. The bartender, a fellow with a twinkle in his eye and a smirk on his lips, placed his meaty hand heavily upon Doc’s shoulder.

“Well son, you can’t win em’ all now can ya? You shoulda known a woman like that plays to win. Here, this one’s on the house. You look like you need it.” Doc followed the man back across the room with his eyes.

He slowly looked around the main room. All the men have turned away from the demasculating scene to converse with each other.

The women are on the prowl, hunting for the next man to warm their bed and fill their pockets.

No one is looking at him. 

Perfect.

Doc drained the glass and slowly stood up. He made his way out of the building and to the nearby docks.

He quickly began to make his way to the far end of them, a place he knows will be empty this time of night.

The ships anchored in this part of the marina came in early yesterday. Doc knows they have been unloaded and will be underway for repairs come morning light.

No one will be this far out from the main part of town.

After walking nearly twenty minutes, Doc spies what looks to be a flickering candle at the last pier.

The marina was built in this area specifically for the deep waters, but the last few piers on this end had to be set with wooden pilings nearly twice the length of all the others.

The depths here made the water seem black, even in the day light.

He would have been extremely wary were it not for him being well use to the terrors of the night.

As he walked closer to the source of light, he saw Kate. The two bodyguards seem to have disappeared as well as the girl.

Doc knew they wouldn’t be too far away.

When he was within an arm’s distance, she held the candle off to the side as his arms encircled her waist.

The arm not holding the candle found its way around his neck. Their lips crashed together in a fiery passion with teeth clashing briefly and lips tugging until they bruised.

Kate’s hand found its way into Doc’s hair and began to pull, his arms instantly tightening around her and pulling her flush with his hardened length.

He always did get a bit… wound up after such a lucrative hustle.

Doc began to laugh low in his chest, the sound reverberating through the night.

Kate pulled back with an eyebrow cocked in his direction.

“That was one _HELL_ of a three-night bender my dear. I am sorely impressed with your ability to… _strip_ the competition of their valuables. I must say, however, that your ingenious plan of _persuading_ much of the male population within the bordello to offer up their money and possessions was quite… _stimulating_.” Doc smirked at Kate and subtly began to rub himself against her as she lay flush against his body.

Kate grinned in return. “What? You expect me to sail all the way here from _Euron_ just to play with the paltry amount my husband gave me? Pft. It’s like you don’t know me at all John Henry.” She leered at him as she rubbed her hand down his chest and leaned up to kiss him once more.

…

A rustling near some shipping crates off to their left snapped both their heads toward the sound.

Doc watched as the young girl moved forward with the filled satchel, nearly buckling under its weight.

If not for its incredibly sturdy design, it very well may have burst at the seams by now.

Doc released Kate and moved towards it, relieving the girl of the heavy bounty.

“My, my, my. I must say Kate, I do believe this is more than I have ever swindled in one go in all my life. There must be enough to buy our own ship in here. Maybe more.” Doc placed the pack on the ground.

Kate bent down near him; both began to shuffle lightly through its contents.

Kate pulled out a ring, placing it on her finger and a dagger with gems inlaid within the scabbard and pommel.

She began to toy with it, murmuring to herself about which royal family it may have come from.

As Kate continued to coo happily over the dagger, Doc noticed a faintly glowing bluish light emanating from the bottom of the satchel.

He dug down until it became bright enough that he was able to grab onto it. He pulled it out and studied the ornate amulet.

What looked like a small flickering bluish flame danced in the center of it, no larger than a thumb nail and barely giving off much light at all.

Doc looked sideways at Kate. 

While she fiddled with the dagger, he slipped the amulet into the hidden inside seam of his boot.

The unmistakable sound of two bodies hitting the ground jerked Kate and Doc to their feet.

They stared in mounting horror at the dozen or so heavily equipped men staring back at them.

The bodyguards lay dead at their feet. Doc locked eyes with their leader.

A man whose reputation he knew well.

Doc had never had more than a handful of personal run in’s with Bobo throughout the years. Most were subtle nods of acknowledgement as they passed each other in the streets.

Doc knew that his dealings as a charlatan needed to be kept at a certain level to maintain the “honorable” and “quality business dealings” that Purgatory was known for.

If he or anyone else got too far out of hand and the merchants stopped using the port, Bobo would stick his head on a pike.

Doc had to hand Bobo one thing, he was despicable, loathsome and just plain terrifying, but he ruled Purgatory with an iron fist.

No one cheated anyone out of business deals in Purgatory, not even in the bordellos.

Making sure the reputation of the marina town was solid meant an incredibly lucrative business for all involved.

Doc looked down to the satchel at his feet. A slow churning in his lower gut barely offset the quick flash of prickling coldness that ran down his spine.

Perhaps this haul had been a bit _too_ lucrative.

Doc glanced over at Kate. Her eyes were wild, betraying her terror.

She was clutching the dagger in her hands and her knuckles were so white that they gleamed in the moonlight.

He refocused on Bobo and realized suddenly that he had one arm wrapped around the young girl’s waist and a dagger to her throat.

‘ _How tainted have I become that I did not notice that the child was in danger until now?’_ Doc peered into the girls petrified eyes, their depths glistening with tears that fell in rivulets down her cheeks.

“John Henry Holliday. Word on the street is, you found yourself with quite a haul tonight. Perchance you mistook my… _hospitality_. I allow you to weave your little charms on the bored travelers of this town for a purpose. If they lose money, they are more likely to take the offers of my men. If they win money, they are more likely to take even _more_ offers from my men. If they, however, lose a great DEAL of money than they will be judicious on their dealings. Imagine what happens when they are cleaned out of all their coin? Nothing left to purchase things with, nothing left in their pockets for me to take advantage of.” Bobo gripped the girl tighter, making her whimper.

“Bobo, I understand your concerns, however; there were a great deal of men over a weeklong period that were slowly relieved of their valuables. I assure you that no one lost all their wealth while at my table. I know and appreciate of your hospitality in this port. I would never intentionally betray your good favor.” Doc glanced at Kate again, her eyes darting around to the various men.

Bobo shifted his eyes to Kate and back to Doc.

He slowly lowered his head down even to the side of the girls, keeping his eyes locked on Doc’s own.

“Perhaps you speak the truth, old friend. Perhaps it would also be in good favor to pay back that which has been granted over such a long period.” Bobo made a long motion of sniffing the weeping child’s hair. “Such innocence in such a malevolent place. It… amuses me when humans think it can be protected.”

Doc shifted at the words. The vileness of the man was enough to make a demon’s hide crawl.

“What do you want Bobo?” Doc watched as the arm that was holding the girl tight suddenly dropped.

Bobo’s hand that held the dagger slicing quickly across the palm of his now empty hand.

Doc looked quickly at Kate, only to see her begin to tremble as her eyes became impossibly wider.

The wound in Bobo’s hand began to sizzle and steam, the drops of blood hissing as they splashed onto the ground below, turning the wooden planks of the docks black where they touched.

The girl screamed and turned to flee, barely making a half turn before the injured hand covered her mouth.

Doc’s own eyes flew open in horror as the girls screams turned into blood curdling shrieks.

Smoke began to waft through Bobo’s fingers as he held the child tightly to his chest.

The dagger fell to the ground as the little girl began thrashing around and clawing at his hand.

After what seemed like an eternity the flailing stopped.

The last of her desperate cries echoed around the empty docks as the sound of retching met Doc’s ears.

He didn’t have to look to know Kate had just lost her battle with her stomach.

Bobo dropped the body to the floor.

Doc looked into the anguished filled eyes, staring lifelessly toward the sea.

Bulging and bloodshot red, they echoed the agony she had just suffered through in life.

As he looked at her mouth, he flinched back hard enough to dislodge his hat. It fell onto the dock somewhere beside him. 

The lips had been burnt away and the gaping hole was singed and raw. The blood had foamed into a black, mousse like texture and even from here he could see the flakes of skin peeling off around the charred edges.

She had been burnt alive from the inside-out.

…

Doc turned to the side and placed his hands on his knees, the feeling of unsteadiness nearly overwhelming him.

Spots danced in his vision as the smell of charred flesh filled his nostrils.

He noticed the sound of laughter getting louder and louder as the rushing in his ears began to die down.

Clap. Clap. Clap.

“Well done good sir. You managed to hold it in. I must say, I am impressed. Most first timers are not able to do so. Your friend the Countess here certainly was not. Now, what did you ask me? Ahh, yes. What do I want? The answer to that is simple John Henry Holliday. I want everything that you have won in your little games since you’ve been in Purgatory. _Everything.”_

Doc quickly moved to the satchel and picked it up with shaking hands.

He had seen a lot of things in his life, even some minor magics used here and there.

Doc had never seen anything of this level. And to a child on top of that.

Ever the survivor, Doc brought the satchel to Bobo and held it out for the man.

Bobo simply stared at him. No emotion was present in his eyes.

Doc wondered briefly if they had always had a red ring around the iris.

He’d never been close enough to notice before and he really wished it would have stayed that way.

One of Bobo’s men moved forward and took the bag from Doc. Both men moved quickly back to their respective positions.

“I asked for everything John Henry. If you fail to deliver, I will personally see to your demise myself.”

Doc quickly looked around, trying to see if anything had fallen on the ground.

He knew that he had put everything he had won all week into the last large pot with Kate. Everything was in that bag.

Kate! Doc moved quickly towards her and reached for the dagger still being tightly clutched in her hand.

She flinched and let out a yelp as his hands connected with hers.

Wild eyes locked with his and tears immediately fell down her cheeks. “Not here. Not yet.” Doc whispered lowly to her and with a jerking motion of her head she released the dagger into his possession.

“The ring too.” Kate removed it swiftly and watched as Doc moved towards Bobo once again.

As he got within a few feet of him he looked to the man who had taken the satchel from him.

His face was stony, and he did not move.

“Now, now Doc. Are you sure that’s all of it? Anything else you might have forgotten anywhere?” Bobo stared into Doc’s eyes with a coldness that he could feel reverberating throughout his entire body.

“No. No Bobo. Everything I won all week and anything Kate won is in that bag that your man is holding right over there. This dagger and ring are the last of it. I want no part in this. I will leave Purgatory come morning light and you will have no issue with me again.” Doc offered up the dagger and ring to Bobo, willing him to take it and leave him be.

“Oh Doc…” Bobo reached out and took both the ring and dagger, handing them off to a man behind him without looking, “why wait until morning?”

The dozen or so men standing behind Bobo rushed forward so rapidly that Doc had just enough time to pull out his six shooters and fire once on each.

Two shots rang out and two men fell dead.

Doc was knocked prone and roughly kicked in the stomach, sides and back.

He heard the horrifying screams of Kate as she was thrown onto the dock by multiple men.

He tried to protect his head from the damage, but he could not stop his ears from hearing Kate’s dress being ripped apart.

He could not stop himself from overhearing her agonizing suffering or the grunts and yells of the men as they brutally beat and raped her.

His tears mixed with his blood as they fell onto the wooden boards beneath him.

The blows and kicks finally rendering his battered body unconscious.

…

“Wakey, wakey.” Doc jerked as water splashed into his face.

As he tried to open his eyes, he realized one of them was swollen shut.

Another bucket of sea water drenched his body as his head began to pound.

He slowly opened his one good eye and tried to move his hands.

He found them tied behind his back. His fingers lightly traced the knots and his chest rattled in despair as he realized they had used double fisherman’s knots.

Nearly impossible to escape from, even on a good day.

He lifted his head up and slowly took in his surroundings.

He was propped up on a smaller crate at the end of the pier. His hands tied behind him in this damned knot and his feet trussed up in front.

There was a large boulder with a chain around it sitting at the very edge of the pier.

The chain was connected to the rope around his ankles.

Wonderful.

He looked further up the dock and whimpered.

Kates lifeless body was lying naked and bloody, splayed out in a grotesque display of sadistic cruelty.

He could see bruising and knife wounds even from here. Her death had not been pleasant or fast.

Doc saw the moment that Bobo noticed he was finally awake.

He grit his loose teeth and stared him down as much as he could with his half open eye.

“Ah. Finally decided to gift us with your presence I see. You missed all the fun! We didn’t really find our groove with your little friend until after you had passed out. I must say though, I understand now what you saw in her. She was a wild one!” Bobo smirked and crouched down to eye level with Doc.

“No one comes into my town and steals from me John. No one. Where’s the pendant?” Doc’s eye continued to stare blankly at Bobo.

His body was numb. His head was swimming and half of his thoughts seemed to fade as soon as they appeared.

All he could focus on was the memory of that little girl and Kate in their final moments of death.

He didn’t think he could ever forget it.

_Whack!_

Doc’s head rocked to the side as Bobo’s hand connected with his face.

“Pay attention to me John. I’m speaking and you really do not want to miss my words. Where. Is. The pendant?” Doc used almost all his strength to breathe in as much as he could through his nose.

His chest began to rattle and his eye watered.

His throat felt like he swallowed shards of glass and a giant ball of fire all at once.

He continued to breathe in as hard as he could, even though it felt like he was signing his own death warrant to do so.

With the very last of his strength, and his lung capacity at full mass, Doc looked with his eye straight into Bobo’s and spit a wad of bloody mucus directly into his face.

The large blob exploded upon impact, rocking Bobo back just an inch or so and began sliding down onto his tunic.

His face transformed from smirking arrogance to murderous rage in a single moment.

The last thing Doc saw before he was kicked off the deepest pier at the Purgatory marina, were red glowing irises where brown orbs resided only moments before.

…

Never let it be said that Doc was a man without a plan.

In no way did he wish to die like Kate or that child.

He figured that drowning was the least painful option. He didn’t care what that made him.

While evil and intelligent, Bobo still had certain tells about him.

Doc was a master at reading body language after all.

Any perceived disrespect in front of others and Bobo’s levelheaded tyrannical plans went right out the window.

Unfortunately for Doc, that meant a deep, dark watery grave.

As the large rock pulled him further under the water, Doc began to struggle.

His whole life he had fought tooth and nail, did whatever he had to in order to survive.

Even being trussed up in inextricable knots and tethered to a sinking boulder couldn’t stop his raging spirit from screaming out into the ether in a plea for survival.

The cries of his soul were so primitive and raw that they echoed through the metaphysical plane, boosted by a determined strength that refused to be broken.

Doc pleaded and prayed to all the God’s that would listen to save his life.

He promised devotion and loyalty; to fight for whatever cause they demanded. He swore absolute fealty and submission for the rest of his days.

His internal raging slowed down to nearly the same speed as the trickle of bubbles from his mouth.

With Doc’s final breath he cursed all who heard him and did not answer. 

His open eye hung at half-mast and his body finally went fully limp as he was drug down into the icy cold depths below.

His promises and pleas, however, did not fall on deaf ears.

A glowing, golden light permeated his skin, covering him from head to boots. His form suddenly vanished just feet from the ocean floor.

The empty ropes and hefty boulder created a dust plume as they slammed into the sandy bottom below.

…

Doc spluttered and hacked as he abruptly sat up; sea water spattering the floor to the side of his body as he curled protectively around himself.

Great heaving coughs followed as his head pounded.

His muscles quivered and shook as they tried to instinctively raise his body temperature.

Doc pulled himself more fully into a fetal position and huffed his breaths out in short pants, desperately trying to limit the agonizing pain coursing through him after each coughing fit.

He had no idea how long he laid there, curled up and shaking like a leaf; his mind raging with helplessness and confusion.

A great gust of wind suddenly swept across his body, moving him a few inches from the sheer power of it.

The sound of enormous wings flapping once, then twice, had Doc’s body freezing from not only the sudden burst of cold, but also in absolute terror.

His one good eye remained opened as wide as it would go while he limited his breathing to barely half a breath.

His mind had gone completely blank as his body fell totally numb.

The sound of bones breaking and popping echoed through the mighty space he had found himself in.

Groans and growls so deep and menacing in their volume transformed steadily to a lower, almost melodious sound as the loud noises behind him finally ceased.

For a long moment… all was quiet.

Doc could hear his harsh, small breaths panting quickly out in front of him.

He could hear his blood pounding through his veins as his mind slowly registered the vast, open area in front of him.

He forgot about the creature behind him for just a moment.

The smooth yet rough rock beneath him felt cool against his cheek. The rock continued for as far as his eye could see.

Massive white pillars jetted up here and there in the distance. There were no walls that Doc could see, only clouds and the bluest skies he had ever beheld.

A rustling behind his prone body snapped him back to the moment at hand.

Doc remembered the promises he made and the pledges he declared as his panicked mind had begun to shut down.

He suddenly wished he were back under the icy black water, sinking to his final peace.

“Are you so sure about that, child? After all, you _have_ just arrived. Perhaps if you stood and moved around. Surely that would help settle yourself a bit, hmm?”

Doc’s entire being had tensed up as the creature spoke behind him.

The soft, musical voice sounded pleasant and harmonious.

Doc closed his eyes as he prepared himself to be eaten.

“Oh no child, there are far greater uses for you than a simple snack, and _barely_ at that. No, we have much to discuss. Come, raise yourself from the floor and walk with me.” Doc felt a warm hand softly grasp his shoulder.

A thick warmth spread gradually throughout his body.

He felt his bones begin to reknit themselves together, muscles and tendons quickly healed, and a surge of energy infused every pore of his being.

Doc slowly blinked both eyes as he gradually stood up and looked at the creature before him.

It was an old man. He was shorter than Doc by at least a foot and completely bald.

His heavily lined face wore a mischievous smirk as his short arms held a golden robe tightly around his slightly bent body.

Doc’s eyebrows lifted and his head moved slowly back of its own accord when he realized that he could just make out nearly translucent scales covering the old man’s head and arms.

The creature suddenly turned and began walking stiffly in the opposite direction.

“Come John Henry. We have much to discuss.”

Doc felt a small tug near his navel and his feet began to move him forward against his will.

“What… now hold on just one moment! I am well aware at this point that you clearly are the one who rescued me from spending eternity at the bottom of a watery grave, but I will not abide _anyone_ taking over certain parts of my anatomy! There is a code amongst men as it pertains to debts being owed and I know for a fact that this is _not_ one of them!” Doc’s feet stopped suddenly as the being turned quickly to face him.

The smirk on his face grew in intensity as a tinkling giggle made its way from between its lips.

“A code amongst men John Henry? Well, I suppose you are correct. That, however, does _not_ pertain to me. Will you follow me of your own accord then John?” The creature slightly cocked his head as he waited for Doc to answer.

“Well that depends at this point. Do I have a choice in the matter?” Doc didn’t know if the creature ignored his sarcastic tone or if he simply didn’t understand it.

“There is always a choice John Henry. _Always_.” The creature turned and began to walk away.

Doc followed the old man for a moment with his eyes.

He did not feel the tug behind his navel and his feet no longer blindly moved forward of their own accord.

He looked swiftly around. The white rock flooring extended in every direction as far as he could see.

The massive columns were so tall they pierced through the clouds, beyond his vision.

There was nothing but blue skies on all sides.

Doc looked towards the old man and saw the impressive distance he had travelled.

He sighed and adjusted his pants.

Long strides and a quick few sprints placed him beside the creature.

“Alright. You have my undivided attention. Who are you and why did you save my life? What are you expecting from me in return?” Doc felt a tendril of electricity flow down his spine as the old man chuckled slightly.

“Patience, young one. Patience. All shall be revealed soon enough.”

“Fabulous. I do so love waiting games. Also, I would just like to complement you on the décor. You really have an eye for color.”

The creature chuckled low in its chest, the sound reverberating across the empty space between them.

“It has been so long since I have had contact with your kind. I forgot how… spirited you are. It can be quite amusing.”

“Why yes, that’s us humans to a tee. Amusing. So, friend, do you have a name, or should I pick one for myself?”

“What name would you choose for me John Henry?” Doc looked at the old man and saw his lips turn up at the sides.

Clearly this being was enjoying himself.

“I’m thinking something along the lines of the great golden nugget.” It took a moment for Doc to realize that the creature had stopped walking and was now staring at him with a perfectly blank face.

Fiery golden eyes seemed to grow in brightness as the being’s shoulders were pulled back and he began to stand upright.

His aura alone made Doc move back a step and then a booming voice echoed in the space all around him, driving through every atom of Doc’s body with the sheer force of it.

“ **I AM THE ANCIENT AND POWERFUL GOLDEN NUGGET. SUPREME GOD-KING OF THE HEAVENS AND PROPHET OF THE COSMIC SEAS. ALL WHO LOOK UNTO MY MAJESTIC BEING SHALL TREMBLE BEFORE ME.”** The God-king hunched over once more; his presence settling back down to just shy of overwhelming. “But you may call me Tushie.”

The omnipotent being shuffled quickly past a gaping Doc as his little smirk once again found its way onto his face as his chest rumbled in a low chuckle.

…

Doc was bored.

They had been walking for what felt like hours in silence.

It was the same exact scenery all around him. White floor, white columns, white clouds and blue skies.

Doc had spent the first half of this little walk-a-bout incessantly asking question after question.

Every answer he received from the supreme being was the same. _All will be revealed shortly._

Doc had taken to walking just slightly behind the God-king. Tushie’s robe drug the floor just a bit and occasionally would grab onto the slight roughness of the floor, pulling it a bit taught.

Doc had almost managed to step on it for the third time when the old man finally stopped walking.

He turned to Doc and lifted his arm outwards.

Doc followed the movement with his eyes and saw they had reached the edge of… whatever this was.

Doc was too far away to see over it, but it was clearly quite a drop off. “The answers you seek are beyond there, young one.”

Doc moved closer to the edge, keeping one eye on the supreme being behind him.

He looked forward and felt his eyes pop open in sheer disbelief.

Far beneath him stretched a landscape the likes of which he had never seen.

Colors of every kind seemed to be present.

They were all bursting with vibrance and brightness and yet none were overpowering to the eyes.

The forests extended in every direction, mountains in various hues of purples and blues dotted the skyline and rivers of all colors ran like paint off a canvas throughout.

Brightly colored birds in huge flocks dipped and dove, ridding the air currents with not a care in the world.

Large multicolored grasslands were swaying in the breeze as animals that Doc had never seen before frolicked and played in the rolling hills.

The sounds of the world seemed to float up to John, making tears fill his eyes as the sweetest music he’s ever heard played in a crescendo of pure life down below.

It was magnificent. It was glorious.

It was hurtling towards him at an incredibly fast pace!

“Mother fucker! You sorry, good for nuthin’ low down piece of…” Doc’s eyes began to water, and the wind whipped at his face as he hurtled towards the ground far below.

“Calm yourself John. What is life without a little adventure, hmm?” Doc’s endless stream of profanity abruptly turned into ear-piercing shrieks as he looked into an eye that was the size of a shield.

An enormous golden dragon glided beside the falling man. Its oversized wings hanging loosely at its sides as it kept its gigantic head close to Johns plunging form.

“Easy John. There is no need for hysterics.” The massive dragon moved slightly under Doc and slowed itself a bit.

“ _Oomph…”_ Doc landed lightly upon the dragon’s neck, holding onto the ridges there for dear life.

He began to look around at the world beneath him as they glided effortlessly across the sky.

The wind ruffled John’s hair as he began to loosen his death like grip on the hide beneath him.

For long minutes they simply flew and enjoyed the scenery around them.

Flocks of birds would fly along with them for small periods of time before veering off on their own.

Large herds of animals below would run along in the direction they were flying for long moments before tiredly stopping to graze at the lands beneath them.

Doc felt a lightness in his chest that he had never experienced before.

The stress of his life and the unending worry of tomorrow seemed non-existent at such altitudes.

He felt his arms begin to rise until they were spread out as if he himself had wings.

He closed his eyes and allowed his fingers to caress the wind currents they were gliding on. John had never felt so at peace.

He felt the dragon’s head suddenly dip and they began to slowly descend.

After a few moments more, he saw the head dip down again and the decline became much more rapid.

Doc grabbed onto the hide beneath him once more as the head bobbed swiftly down for a third time, placing their angle so steep that he felt his lower body begin to rise from the neck of the dragon.

A loud snore ripped through the air and Doc’s eyes opened dramatically as the treetops began to quickly whip past just under where they flew.

Doc began to scream as the dragon dive bombed directly towards a large lake that had moments ago looked incredibly small due to their elevation.

He held his breath as another snore loudly reverberated through the air.

The dragon suddenly whipped his wings upwards in a dramatic fashion, quickly dashing into the sky.

Doc’s screams began to abate as he realized they had not only leveled out again, but the snores from the giant beast had transformed into deep, growling laughter.

“You… You… DEMON! You inhuman _scoundrel_ son of a goat! You no good…”

“Keep your underpants on human, t’was just a jest. I had forgotten how seriously your kind tended to take them.”

“ _Our_ kind?! _Anyone_ or _any-THING_ would take plummeting to certain death seriously Tushie!” Doc shifted quickly on top of the dragon, lightly shifting enough to loosen his pants from areas where they had gotten a bit too tight.

“No need to get butthurt about it John. All in good fun.” Doc’s eyes rolled as the dragon slowly turned back toward where they had first taken flight.

Doc realized as he was taking in the colossal floating temple on the horizon that perhaps he should have been more in awe of it.

He glanced down at the scales covering the neck of the giant golden dragon and huffed. The thing wasn’t _that_ impressive.

He ignored the rattling belly laughter beneath him as they sailed back toward the rocky temple.

…

“What do you mean when you say you wish for me to become your acolyte back on Tor?”

They had settled themselves on the ledge of the temple, feet dangling over the side as they spoke.

Tushie had returned to his human visage and seemed to find quite a lot of enjoyment from their banter.

“You would be infused with a drop of my essence; my very soul if you will. It is a divine blessing of the highest order. You will be my sword; my shield. You will be my disciple and my champion.” The smile on the old man’s face grew with each word.

Doc pursed his lips as he noticed his teeth were quite pointy.

“And what would you have me do as your acolyte then? With all this blessing hogwash, hmm? Champion? Pft. I do not believe you are quite of the understanding of just who you are talking to Tushie. I am a man of simple pleasure. I enjoy a fine drink, a fine woman and a fine pile of coin. There’s not much else that concerns me. I do believe you… why are you laughing? I do not believe I have said anything amusing.” The supreme being could hold it in no longer and began to laugh uproariously.

He bent nearly in half and took in great lungsful of air. 

Doc’s eyebrows had never risen so high before nor furrowed in petulance quite so quickly.

The creature finally got himself under control and spoke to Doc as if he knew a secret far too complex for him to ever know.

“John, all shall be revealed in time. All I would ask from you now is to walk.”

Doc stared into the lightly golden, pulsating eyes of Tushie.

He had been reading people nearly all his life to ensure his own survival.

He was exceptionally good at it. He could almost always tell what someone would say next.

Nothing else this being could have said would have stumped him to this extent.

“You want me… to walk.”

“Yes.”

“So, you are saying that you saved me from certain death to make me your champion acolyte that will be blessed with your spirit, or whatever, and all you want me to do… is walk.”

“For now, yes.”

Doc quickly pointed his index finger towards the dragon in disguise and wiggled a bit in excited glee.

“Ah ha! And what about after now, hmm? Where am I walking _too_?”

The being smiled serenely at him. “All shall be revealed soon enough.”

John’s hand slowly lowered as he continued to stare blankly at the man-dragon in front of him.

The being chuckled and began to walk across the rough floor.

“Come along John. It is time for you to walk.”

…

“I have watched for many eons, young one. I have never interfered. I have never taken an acolyte. I heard the screams of your soul as you drifted slowly toward the darkness. I felt the pull to lift you up and give you a purpose. Tell me child, will you answer _my_ call to _you_?” The creature walked towards a large ornate mirror.

“Now I know that wasn’t there just a moment ago…” Doc hurried along behind him and witnessed the little man try to hide a mischievous little smirk.

They reached the elaborately carved golden mirror.

There was no reflection that Doc could see.

He turned to look at the older man only to step back, startled. He was no longer beside him.

Doc looked forward towards the mirror.

Nothing he had ever known could prepare him for what happened next.

…

He was on the other side of the mirror. Doc was looking at himself standing next to a giant, golden forepaw.

It was so massive that the wrist was just at the height of the other John Henry’s head.

The talons on all five claws were enormous. Each one looked to be half the length of his body.

They were curved and wickedly majestic and yet, he felt no fear.

He realized that his other self looked to be frozen with his eyes staring straight ahead through the mirror.

Doc turned away to look behind him. He realized he was suddenly standing in a port town.

He had been there many times over his life. This was where it all began for him. This is where his mother left him to die.

Doc felt his feet moving him forward. He walked down the roads of the main part of town, down the side streets and docks.

The townsfolk barely moved out of his way, but no one so much as looked in his direction.

He tried to pick up an apple from a cart stand but his hand moved right through it. It was as if he were slightly more than a ghost.

Doc moved further and further into the town. He soon found himself in the nastiest, cruelest part of the city.

A place he only returned to in his nightmares.

The streets ran brown with excrement and the children hid in the darkest of corners, too scared to even play in the light.

Suddenly, a woman’s cry sounded from a nearby shabby doorway.

Doc slowly poked his head around the frame and witnessed a woman in the throes of giving birth.

There was no one else present in the barren room. The dust and grime had built up everywhere, making it look as if no one lived there.

The pit for the fireplace was bare and even the mat in the corner seemed so frayed and weathered that Doc wondered who on earth could even sleep on the old thing.

He moved further into the room, watching the woman’s stomach ripple. Her head lulled to the side as she gave a horse cry out to the heavens.

She moved up to her elbows and widened her legs. The woman began to push.

Doc watched in endless moments as this woman tried with all her might to bring another life into this world.

His feet rooted him to the spot, knowing he could do nothing but stand there and witness this miracle.

After many whimpers and pleas, the baby finally came. A boy landed back first on the grimy floor.

The jarring fall prompted him to begin a series of pitiful wails.

The mother willed her body to move and scooped him into her arms, wiping away the dirt and bodily fluids.

She held him and cried.

Great heaving sobs left her as she held the pink little body tightly to her chest.

She cradled his neck as she encouraged him to drink from her breast.

The little boy latched on and immediately began to suckle. His little fists grabbed onto a lock of her damp hair and held on tightly as his cheeks hollowed out over and over as his tummy filled with warm milk.

Tears landed on his face and body as the woman’s sobs began to subside.

After a period, she laid the baby down beside her in a folded-up shirt.

Once the afterbirth was out and pushed away from her body, she reached back and grabbed a dagger that Doc only now had noticed.

His heart began to beat frantically.

He began to beg this woman, plead with this woman, _SCREAM_ at this woman; only for it all to fall on deaf ears.

The dagger rose and Doc watched with a sigh of relief as she cut the umbilical cord from the baby.

He was grateful not to be cursed with seeing another atrocity befall a child so soon after witnessing the last one.

The young woman swaddled the newborn in the dirty shirt as best she could and moved stiffly over to a small bucket of water.

She quickly washed the baby and herself of the grime and blood that caked them both.

Doc took a moment to look at the child’s eyes and shuddered when he noticed how strikingly similar they were to his own.

A loud commotion was heard out in the street. The sound of men kicking in doors and women shrieking reverberated off the winding streets of the flea-dwellers district.

The woman quickly used her foot to kick up dirt and soil across the floor where she had just given birth, hiding the evidence as best as she could.

She turned towards the back of the room where a sliver of light could be seen coming from in between two loose boards.

She finagled one of the boards open and slipped onto a backstreet with the child.

Doc followed her through back alleys and past ram shackled homes. The woman looked to be heading into the forest.

For many miles she walked, crying quietly to herself and holding the baby close to her breast.

Doc could see a small building in the distance.

As they got closer, he realized it looked as if the thing were on the verge of falling down.

Boards had been hung haphazardly on top of other boards, many leaves and grasses had been wedged in gaps and hardened mud seemed to cover the rest of them.

This was no home; this was a death trap.

The woman used one had to pull open a plank of wood on the side of the building.

Doc never would have noticed it had he just been looking at the place himself. He followed her inside and immediately halted in place.

The inside was _NOTHING_ like what he had just seen outside.

For one thing, it was huge. Doc quickly looked behind him and where the plank of wood once was, instead a lightly fluttering quilt laid.

His gaze returned to his front as he took in where he stood.

The room he was in was immense. The ceiling was at least thirty foot high or more.

There was a giant hearth off to one side that was twice his height and at least three times that wide.

Long wooden tables lined the stone walls of the room and two massive ones sat nearly in the middle of it.

A large table in a half circle shape was set up near the hearth. Half a dozen women looked to be cooking or prepping food on it.

More women were sitting around one of the tables in the center of the room and were in the process of sewing a massive blanket.

Doc could make out a hallway that clearly led to more areas, but his thoughts of exploration were cut short as a cry went out among the women in the hall.

They all rushed towards the young mother.

They began asking rapid fire questions and virtually dancing in place while waiting to hold the little one.

The young woman began to cry.

All talking ceased and Doc began to get a gnawing feeling inside his guts.

An older woman, one whose scarred face clearly showed a harsh and violent past, shoved through the now silent throng of women to stand before the younger one.

“Allianna. Let me see the child.” The woman shook her head and moved backwards a step, a sob choking off her strangled answer.

“Allianna. You know the rules of this circle. We cannot allow a male to enter here Allianna. The moment his masculinity shows itself his life will be forfeit. It would be best to end it now, before you become too attached. Give me the boy, child.” Doc watched as the crone reached forward for the baby.

The new mother was slow in her reactions due to the stress of the childbirth and what she now must face.

A fierceness suddenly entered her eyes that stopped the old woman in her tracks.

“This is my _child_ , mother. This is your _grandchild_! Please! There must be something that can be done! Anything!” Doc watched as the woman cradled the baby to her bosom as she backed away slowly from the watching horde in front of her.

“The only way this will end is with that child’s death Allianna. You know this! You knew this could be the price for falling in love with that man! Do not choose this path child, please! Come back to us and we will take care of you.” The women began to move towards her as the girl moved further away, trembling and weeping.

“Allianna!” The call rang out as she raced back through the quilt and out into the night.

Doc ran with her as she stumbled but never once looked back.

The young woman made her way back to the room she had given birth in.

She curled up in the corner on the weathered old mat, holding the child’s head as he began suckling once again.

“What have I done? I have renounced my heritage. I have left my family and my home. I have nothing, no one. No money, no place to live… by the God’s what have I done?” As Allianna looked down upon the child at her breast, Doc watched as the doubts and fears began to give way to wonder and hope.

He watched as the woman ran an index finger slowly over both eyebrows of the child.

She traced the ridge of his nose and caressed his cheeks.

Doc witnessed the moment this woman fell in love with her child.

A determination entered her eyes. One born of strength of character only found in the halls of legend.

“It matters not. I will survive because it must be so. I will raise you, my son, to be a good man. You will survive this world; you will thrive in it. This I promise you, my son.” Doc watched as a golden-green light flowed from her lips into the crown of the babies’ head as she placed a loving and powerful kiss atop it.

The infant seemed to settle instantly, reaching for a lock of its mothers’ hair.

The woman settled down and rubbed the infants back as she laid it upon her stomach.

“You must have a name. A strong one perhaps. Maybe many names. That is what the humans do with their young ones. I haven’t spent enough time around them to learn many. Hmm. What shall I call you… ah! I know! I shall name you after the man who gave you to me! He was different than the others. He was kind and patient, even when I did not know the ways of the flesh. Yes. I will name you after your father.” Doc watched as the woman lifted her head slightly to kiss the crown of the babies’ head once more.

She sniffed the whisper soft hair and smiled serenely.

“Sleep now, my little John Henry.” The woman made sure the shirt was covering the baby fully as she slowly turned over and curled herself protectively around the infant.

She never acknowledged the man standing in the room watching the scene with tears flowing freely down his face.

…

Doc gulped in a lung full of air as he found himself suddenly standing once again beside the old man.

Great heaving sobs left his chest as he fell on his hands and knees.

A wrinkled, golden hand reached out and laid upon his shoulder.

Doc turned and buried his face into the stomach of the creature and for the first time in his life he finally released all the pain, torment and anger he held inside himself.

Finally, he moved backwards and rubbed his sleeve across his nose. He kept his eyes averted from the old man as he slowly stood up.

“I… apologize. I was not prepared to witness that. I did not know that my mother even loved me, let alone saved my life. I do not remember her at all. Merely flashes. What happened to her? Is she still alive?” Doc’s blue eyes found golden ones and the loving sorrow he saw there let him know that she was no longer of the living.

“What happens now? Who are you? What do you want of me?” Doc would have continued with the questioning, but the old man placed a hand upon his shoulder once more.

“You are a good man where it truly counts John Henry Holliday. Never question that. I am the God Beñe. Protector of life, light and intercessor of death. I have never found a being I felt worthy to carry a part of my essence. Until you, John Henry. I wish for you to become my acolyte, my warrior. My champion. Will you accept this mantle?” The dragon God’s twinkling eyes seemed to soften as he spoke.

“What… but… what would it entail? What would become of me?” Doc rubbed the back of his neck as his thoughts flitted one to another.

“If you choose to carry my essence within you, you will find yourself with certain… abilities. I am not allowed to interfere directly outside of my realm, however; a champion who binds with my essence would be able to on my behalf. To a certain extent, of course.”

“What would you order me do in your name? Will you command me to kill your enemies? To instruct me to spend my life searching for mythical treasure’s or perhaps a way to allow you to access my world? What would you demand of me?”

The dragon-man’s eyes squinted in amusement during Doc’s ramblings.

He waved a hand towards the mirror and suddenly an image appeared.

It was a woman.

Doc moved closer to the mirror.

As the image became clearer, he saw that she was beautiful.

Long, flowing dark hair was held back from her face with braided leather.

She wore clothing made from hide and clearly was proficient in creating her own, as it hugged her curves yet allowed her free movement.

She carried a bow as well as a small pack on her back.

Doc startled when he realized she was walking with a pair of direwolves through a forest setting.

The image blurred once again. A long road was seen running past a mountain range, one that Doc knew quite well.

It was the largest one in all of Cannondale and the town of Purgatory was located near one end of it.

Maybe a few weeks ride at most.

If he could find a fast horse.

Doc suddenly realized he was already preparing for the journey.

Apparently his subconscious had already agreed to be the God’s chosen one.

Doc sniffed a bit, wondering what he had gotten himself into. 

The image suddenly moved along the road until it stopped at what looked to be a valley. The mountain range curled around it, protecting it on three sides.

The image stopped on a signpost at the mouth of the valley.

“All I ask of you now my son, is simply… to walk.”

Doc looked into the visage of the smiling old man and felt a rush travel through his body.

This, _this_ was his destiny. He would accept this quest.

The moment he accepted his fate in his heart, the God Beñe smiled and placed his hand in the center of his chest.

A golden glow began to emanate from it, growing in brightness until everything within Doc’s vision was blotted out by the color.

He felt a warm, honey-like essence moving throughout his entire body, filling every part of his being.

There was no pain, no fear, no distress.

It was over far too soon.

Doc ran his hands over his body. He appeared to be the same physically.

He looked once more into the eyes of the dragon God before him.

“My… uh… lord, sir. Being, person… Tushie? I am confused on what exactly I am required to call you.”

The rumbling laughter escaped the mouth of the dragon God, a melodious sound that sent tingles down John’s spine.

Doc unexpectedly felt a tug near his navel as he was relocated out of the eternal plane of the God Beñe.

He blinked slowly as his eyes fully adjusted to the scene around him.

He was standing in front of the wooden signpost he saw in the mirror. The valley laid out behind it in every perfect detail.

The downtrodden homes scattered for miles throughout and the fog rolling down the slight hill from the road into the valley down below.

_‘Well then. I suppose this means the old man intends for me to go in. Perhaps he should have mentioned the no way out and certain death parts he clearly glossed over. Hmm. I do believe I shall walk the road for a bit. He did insist rather strongly that I walk, after all. Gather my bearings so to speak.’_ Doc turned and began down the long road.

He stopped suddenly, cocking his head slightly.

‘ _Wait… I must… find something. Yes. Find something. No… not something. Someone.’_ Doc walked directly into the valley.

His new hat shielding his brow from the morning sun and his brand new six shooters hanging low at his hips; presents from the God creature he was now soul bound too.

A light bluish hue slowly flashed from the old wooden signpost as he left the road, crossing the barrier into the misty fog.

An answering flash barely escaped from the hidden inner pocket in Doc’s boot.

He was far too focused on his surroundings to notice the blue hue as he walked down the hill towards an unknown future.


	6. Head Hunter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I heard a unique accent and decided to try it out on the locals.  
> a' is pronounced ah.
> 
> This is particularly violent and graphic. It is not my intention to trigger anyone.

Xavier felt the droplet of sweat fall slowly from his brow to his chin, dripping off his chiseled jaw onto the dirt below. The chilliness of the morning air doing nothing to temper the growing heat within his diaphragm.

The men in front of him outnumbered him ten to one, not counting the two currently lying unconscious on the ground.

Neither one would be able to walk away once they woke up; especially with the angle that their legs were currently bent at.

Xavier saw the next punch creeping toward his face as if it were in slow motion. He quickly pivoted around his attacker, grabbing the back of the man's tunic and holding him behind his own back at arm's length.

He thrust the bottom part of his other palm hard into the nose of the man who had been standing just behind the one that he was now using as a reverse human shield.

The haymaker from another was knocked aside with his free hand, only for the elbow of the same arm to swiftly find its mark in the young man’s throat. Down to eight.

Number seven and six barrel-rushed from both sides. A quick jab to the nose followed by a knee to the face of one and a swift boot to the side of a knee for the other put both nearly out of commission. Xavier kicked his heel out catching the screaming man in the chin as he held his broken leg.

Down to five.

He released the tunic of the man he had been jostling around like a rag doll. His fingers moved upwards, digging into the hair of the young man he was just holding and bent him backwards nearly in half. His forearm came down swiftly across the bridge of his nose.

Four left.

A tinkling sound floated through the air as a chain was brandished and swung. Xavier ducked underneath, reaching his left arm up and grabbed a length of it as it passed overhead. He didn't feel the metal biting into his arm as his adrenaline fueled his rage.

A quick jerk brought the man off his feet, tripping forwards. Xavier stepped past him, looping the chain around his neck as he went. A two-handed yank yielded a mighty ' _crack'_ from the neck of the now dead man.

Three more to go.

A beat passed before a horse battle cry sounded behind him, a weight latching itself onto his back. The man’s arms encircled his head as his legs squeezed around his midsection. His compatriot rushed forward and began to throw punch after punch into Xavier’s midsection.

Xavier felt his stomach began to boil as his rage built, narrowing his field of vision down to a hazy red, mist like tunnel. The sweat from his brow began dripping in rivulets down his face as a thundering, deep, growling roar halted all three men that were left standing and conscious. 

The leader of this little posse moved a bit farther away in fear as he watched the last two of his men fall unconscious on the ground, bleeding and broken, the same as all the others.

His eyes moved up and locked onto the terrifying visage in front of him. Xavier’s face looked to be set in stone. His body ridged, yet loose. No emotions could be seen in his eyes. He felt his fear and heart rate quickly elevate as he stared at the now yellow, red ringed eyes of Xavier Dolls.

Eyes that, the organizer of this impromptu brawl knew, were jet black in color just a few moments ago. He turned and fled into the night as if the hounds of hell were nipping at his feet.

…

Xavier watched as the leader of the latest band of idiots ran off into the early morning light, nearly tripping over his own feet to get away from him.

He smirked and turned to empty the pockets of the ones on the ground. No need for him to spend his own coin when the welcoming party practically begged him to take theirs. Perhaps he'd buy a nice breakfast with it. Such a welcome always did leave him feeling a bit peckish.

Xavier moved the few coins into his own pocket and walked back towards the main road. He pulled up the hood on his cloak and made his way cautiously down the street. The streets of Kalagee were nearly empty at this time of morning. He was surprised at the few people he did see out and about, as the sun had just tipped past the horizon.

He knew there was no better time to scout out a new place than when most of its inhabitants were still sleeping. For hours he wandered, taking in the streets and the surroundings, watching as the roads and stalls began to fill up with people and goods.

Freshly baked bread mixed with the chilly morning air as he took a deep breath, his lungs blissfully full even as his stomach began to growl, reminding him that he had not yet filled it.

Xavier made his way to a stall where a cheery woman was selling all manner of baked goods. His mouth began to water as he laid his eyes on the various treats in front of him.

“Ello’! Welcome to my stall! What can I get ya sir? Wanna’ loaf of freshly made bread? What about a' treat of pastries, eh? Freshly made just this morn! I have some butta’ and jam too for em’! Best in all the stalls this side of the river, they are!”

Xavier smiled slightly, a rarity for him, and the woman practically vibrated with excited energy at the thought of getting a sale.

“I’ll take a few of the pastries and that loaf of bread there. Some of the butter would be lovely, thank you.” Xavier chuckled lowly to himself as he watched the woman quickly prepare and bag his goods before he could change his mind.

“Ere’ sir! Best pastries in all of Kalagee, it is!”

Xavier handed over a few extra coins to the flustered woman as he carefully took the package from her.

“May I ask you a question, miss?”

“Oh! Yes sir! What can I elp’ you wif’ sir?”

“If I were to go somewhere for information, as I am new to this area, where would you suggest I turn to?”

“Well the Dewdrop Inn a' course’! The barkeep, ol’ Mr. Grady, is a' good un’ to talk too. Knows all about the happenins’ in this town, he does. What you wanna’ ask im’ sir?”

“I would like to inquire about the state of the local lawmen to be honest. I am currently looking for employment and I have extensive experience with them.”

“Oh! Well sir, ya’ seem like a' nice and decent fella’. You sure ya wanna’ join the magistrate at this here town though sir?”

“May I ask you to expand on that line of reasoning?”

“What?”

“Could you tell me why you do not believe I would be a good fit with the lawmen of this town?”

“Oh! Well ya see sir, they’re not so much lawman as… well…” Xavier leaned forward as the woman did the same, looking all around to assure herself that they were not being overheard.

“They be more like brutes to be honest, sir. Common criminals they are. They charge us all a' proper penny for ' _protection'_ ya see? Arrest people for no good reason, simple things really, and throw em’ in the ring ta fight, they do. Make money off of death, they do. It ain’t right.”

Xavier leaned back as the woman became flustered. He realized the man at the stall next to them had begun to look repeatedly in their direction.

“Thank you for the bread and pastries, miss. I wish you a profitable day.”

“An’ to ya as well, sir.”

Xavier turned and walked along the street as he began to eat one of the pastries. They were exceptionally delicious. They carried a sweet aftertaste and the flavors of berries exploded on his tongue. A honey flavored dough flaked off around his lips as the crunch of it echoed in his ears. He was suddenly glad he’d purchased a few of them.

Xavier made his way down the main part of town, looking up at a poorly drawn sign proclaiming a rickety old building as the ‘Dewdrop INN’. The whole building looked as if it were a hundred years old at least.

The wood was fully greyed and chipped, half rotted in many places, with windows that were so dirty you couldn't hope to see inside.

There was a railing along one side that seemed to be a bit newer. Three horses were tied to it as men of various ages leaned against the outside of the building, all holding some sort of beverage in their hand.

Xavier shook his head as he realized it was barely a few hours past daybreak and already the sounds coming from inside were growing louder by the minute.

He noticed the swinging wooden doors at the front were clearly from a time long past, as the top of them seemed to stop at chin height and the bottoms near the knees.

_‘That’s one way to get fresh air into a place.’_

Xavier walked slowly, but with purpose, towards the Dewdrop Inn.

The doors offered extraordinarily little protection from the sounds of the already inebriated men and women inside. The trading of boisterous tales and flirty cackles pierced the air and Xavier knew from experience that many a card games could be had here, as well as women, even if the later wasn’t advertised freely.

It seemed that every town had at least one saloon or watering hole. All could be counted on to have three things; liquor, card games, and women. If you played it right then a wealth of information could also be had, occasionally, and for a price.

Xavier walked in and took a quick glance around.

_‘Card games and liquor? Check. Women leading men upstairs? Check. Piano in the corner? Check. Sigh. Never changes.’_

Xavier looked toward the bar and saw an older man with a leather apron pouring a large amount of alcohol into a few glasses.

The stench of Whisky and smoke was heavy in the air as Xavier made his way towards him. Pushing a few of the confiscated coins forward, he drank deeply of the full glass that was suddenly pushed his way.

“Easy there, lad. That’s the top shelf Whiskey. Thought ya could use a bit of a' calm down, eh?” The barkeep surreptitiously pointed towards his own eye and Xavier pulled his cloak a bit tighter around his body.He hadn’t felt the lucky punch connect with his face during the scuffle.

"Thank you. I take it your Mr. Grady?"

“That I am, lad. That I am. Ya fightin’ out there? Ya know what will happen if the magistrate finds ya, aye? They don’t take kindly to nuthin’ they can’t make money off of themselves. If it’s not done in the warehouse, then don’t nobody do it. That’s the unofficial law around these parts. What’s yer name, lad?”

Xavier shook his head slightly and sipped the whisky. “I had little choice in the matter. Street punks. And call me Dolls. I prefer it.”

“Ahh. That explains the extra coinage ya pushed my way. I see. Ya keep yer head down out there. These folks around here are meaner than a' pissed off snake, especially right now. What with all that mess at the Laboratory going down and all. Better to be on yer best behavior, eh Dolls?”

“What is the Laboratory?” Dolls watched as the old man refilled his glass; taking a moment to chew his lip as he thought on how much to share with the newest stranger to wander through town.

“The Laboratory was a' large home on the far end of town. The man runnin' it was mad, he was. Right nutter in the head. Went by the name of Spalding. Reggie Spalding. A doctor he was. But not like anything you nor I would know of. He did things that wasn’t right, aye? Experimenting on people and animals. They said he was doing it on…”

Dolls leaned forward as the barkeep curled his finger, leaning over the bar at him.

“Demons. The ones who were there when they tried to burn it down. They said they found all manner of supernatural creatures in the place. They were all mostly in pieces and some said they couldn't go no further than the ground floor, yeah? But they saw em’. Pieces of claws bigger than yer head and all sorts of dark and evil things. They got the one that worked for him, but they missed the boy. Said he must’a ran off somewhere while they was doling out punishment on the other one.”

Dolls leaned back as Mr. Grady moved down the bar to refill a few drinks. He didn’t understand why this story had piqued his curiosity, but he found that it did.

The smoke-filled saloon offered little in the way of a place to contemplate as the guffaws and titters of the men and women rose in time to the music that began to play on the old piano. It was a rowdy tune, one that many got up and began foot stomping too. Dolls found that his thoughts kept returning to the gossip the old man told him.

‘ _Demons? Creatures? I need to see this house.’_ Dolls felt his resolution slip into place as he tipped back the glass, draining the remaining liquor in one swallow, and rose from his seat.

A hand came down heavily on his shoulder. He swiftly turned and found himself staring into the eyes of the local magistrate. A dozen armed men were fanned out behind him. The sounds in the bar halted suddenly, nothing more than a few labored breaths and the scrapping of a few chairs could be heard.

Dolls shrugged the hand off his shoulder and pulled back the hood on his cloak, staring into the eyes of the man who dared to accost him.

A showdown of wills began to build between the men. 

Long tense moments were spent with one side eyeing the other as the hands of the magistrate's men began to clench the pommels of swords or the grip on their guns. The smokey atmosphere of the saloon seemed to darken and the very air thickened with a tenseness that all who were present could feel.

The sudden sound of a headboard rhythmically banging against a wall upstairs broke the stare down between the two.

Dolls eyes began moving around the room warily as the magistrate began to talk.

“We heard you were the one responsible for three deaths in an alleyway not four streets from here this mornin’.Another four of em’ may not survive the night. Yer aware murder is against the law in this town?”

Dolls rolled his shoulders back, his fingers flexing as he did so.

“I was aware self defense was _legal_ in **_every_** town.”

Dolls watched as a handful of the men move forward a few steps as their grips on their pistols or swords tightened. The magistrate motioned for them to halt as his eyebrow raised at Dolls’ impertinence.

“Self defense ya say? Hmm… guess I could buy that. Twelve men against one seems a' bit steep for any man. Who were you with when it happened?”

“No one. I came to this town alone. The same as I will be leaving.” Dolls had barely moved before the magistrate roughly stopped him, his hand placed in the center of his chest. Dolls roughly shoved it away as he stepped into the magistrate’s personal space.

“Am I under arrest?” Dolls felt the magistrate tremble slightly, even as he grinned up into his face. He could smell the alcohol and sweat clinging to the lawman as a vile odor wafted from his open mouth.

“Oh, _no_ sir! No siree! No lawman worth his salt would ever arrest a' man fightin' for his life while he was outnumbered twelve to one. Oh no, that wouldn’t do at all. Tell me stranger, you ever thought about puttin’ those skills of yours to use?”

Dolls watched as the lawman’s eyes positively gleamed as a few of the others began to smirk.

“No. I’ll be leaving now. Since I’m not under arrest.” As Dolls walked past the men, he felt every eye in the room watching him leave. It was clear that everyone in the place was stunned with his reaction as he cast a quick glance around. Dolls wondered for a moment how much influence and power the magistrate actually possessed. 

“If you find yourself interested in making some coin, make yer way to the old warehouse near the docks. You’ll hear it before ya see it. Every night this week there’s a' fight happenin’. With yer talent you could walk away a' rich man. Think on it son.”

Dolls stopped in the doorway with one hand on the swinging doors; he looked back and locked eyes with the grinning lawman.

“I’m not your son.” He watched the face transform into a sneer as he turned and left the establishment.

…

It wasn’t hard for Dolls to find the scorched home, fondly known as the Laboratory. A few coins, lifted from the street thugs earlier that morning, had a vender giving exact directions to it’s location.

He was also given a warning not to go as the evil that pervaded that place may still be there, lingering around.

Dolls looked up at the large mansion. The black gates surrounding it were busted open in places and the front door looked to be holding on by sheer willpower alone. As it was, the splintered, nearly horizontal door barely creaked as Dolls made his way silently underneath it.

He found himself looking down a long corridor with many rooms jutting off from it. A large set of stairs could be seen towards the back of the corridor. The walls and ceiling were charred black and the floor was covered in soot and dirt.

Dolls slowly made his way down the corridor, keeping to one side, and looking into every room as he passed. Many seemed to be normal, common rooms, even if they were burnt out husks of one.

Burnt couches and chairs, desks and bookcases littered the bottom floor rooms. Any well-to do family could have resided here. The end of the long corridor showed another sitting room on the left while a large hallway opened up to the right.

There were many more rooms down this way, as well as a large stairwell that took up half of the first part of the corridor. The fire had clearly been started on the lower levels as the flame patterns could be seen climbing up the railings of the stairs. 

The amount of footprints on the sooty floor made it clear that many people had trudged through here after the fire had been put out. 

Dolls took a moment to touch the fabric on a few of the couches and chairs. Nothing seemed waterlogged or had any standing water damage. The bookcases in a few of the rooms made him realize that the townsfolk may be onto something. 

None of the books had been burned. The soot and fire damage seemed to stop around an inch from the bookshelves, as if a barrier of some sort kept the fire from burning them.

Dolls decided to explore the rest of the first floor. Some of the rooms held jars of distorted paws or teeth. All seemed to be floating in a liquid of some kind. Various body parts of things that were clearly not human decorated various desks and bookshelves in many of the rooms. Some of them had burst due to the flames and a foul odor creeped through the stale air of the house.

He peeked into the final room at the end of this corridor and paused as his eyes landed on a large hole that seemed to open into a tunnel system beneath the house. He cautiously walked to the hole and looked up.

There appeared to be three more floors directly above him, all with the same size hole in them.

Dolls began to feel a shiver move up his spine. He turned and made his way back to the stairwell. There was a door near the bottom of the steps. The glass panes had been shattered, literring the area with pieces of stained glass.

The top portion of the door frame had been bent at an odd angle, nearly ripped from the top hinge.

Dolls looked out into the yard behind it and his eyes widened a fraction as he looked onto the first horror of the day.

What looked to be a humanoid figure had been chained up to a post. The skin had been peeled away from their body, leaving only their hands undisturbed. The arms had been outstretched above them and chained to the top of the tall post. The fingers on the hands were curled inwards, clenching the top of the post from the agony of their death. They were large hands, clearly belonging to a man.

Dolls shook his head as he realized this was what the barkeep had warned him about. The townspeople were clearly something to look out for here.

He slowly made his way up the steps to the second floor. There were far less footprints here, perhaps a dozen or so, and the fire seems to have stopped at the lower level. There were a few places where torches could be seen lying next to half-burnt cloths and puddles of grease smeared onto walls or floor boards around them. Clearly this house was meant to withstand a fire.

Most of the rooms were empty except for a large one at the end of a hall. It was far larger than the rest with half of it made up to look like a miniature laboratory.

The closet was small, holding only a few types of the same dark clothing. A bathroom was found in this area as well. The wood in front of the table was worn down, as if someone had spent an inordinate amount of time standing in the same spot.

As Dolls made his way to the third floor a feeling of foreboding nearly had him turning back. Crossing the threshold at the top of the stairs required every bit of strength he possessed, even going so far as to pull himself up using the railing.

He realized there were no longer any signs that anyone had made it up this far. He felt himself pause. He closed his eyes as his senses began to expand.

He felt his heartrate began to slowly pick-up speed as a warmth built in the center of his chest, rising in temperature until a sheen of sweat covered his skin.

He could feel the barely-there wind currents moving in the air, caressing his skin as they entered and left from the open windows and doors.

The soot, dust and a dozen other smells assaulted his nose as waves of information filled in the blanks within his subconscious mind. His mouth opened slightly, panting lowly into the void in front of him. His tongue picking up traces of smoke, ash and the metallic tinge of blood. The beast within was waking up.

He felt the pressure bearing down upon his body suddenly disappear as if it had never been there. 

Dolls opened his now yellow and red ringed eyes, the walls and floors now overlaid by an amber hue. The once dark outlines of doorways were clearly identifiable as if it were not only high noon outside, but inside as well.

The dust particles in the air seemed to fall at a much slower pace as he began to make his way through the corridor. The first few rooms held cabinets full of papers and documents, bookcases filled to bursting with things that were clearly mystical in nature.

As his hand brushed over a few more sinister looking books, a sharp tingle made its way up his spine, uncomfortably lodging at the base of his skull.

He quickly moved on.

The next room he came to was barred shut with a heavy lock and chain. Dolls quickly took stock of the door and hinges very diligently due to this being the only door so far that had been closed.

He carefully placed his palm on the door and closed his eyes. He felt nothing. His ear followed, and a lock pick set quickly came out of his cloak as his hearing detected no movement behind the door. A few moments later and the chain was being removed from the front of the door.

The edges of the chain seemed to be imbedded into the doorframe as he picked the lock on the door itself.

He put away his picks and carefully drew his cloak back away from his body, pulling out a knife he had hidden in his boot. His unarmed had reached out, carefully opening the door, allowing it to slowly swing open. After a moment, he moved forward, opening the door completely.

He paused in the doorway as his jaw slowly unhinged at the gruesome sight before him. He buried his nose and mouth into his arm as the overwhelming stench of decay and death assaulted his enhanced senses.

Cages lined all three walls across from the door. Large manacles hung from the ceilings of them or jutted up from the floors. All of them held some sort of creature. The smell was so overwhelming that Dolls had to rush from the room as his stomach twisted violently from the putrid stench of fecal matter and rot.

Shutting down his senses as best he could, he ran down the stairwell to the second floor, breathing in heavily through his mouth. He spit repeatedly onto the soot covered floor as his skin prickled from the revulsion of what he had just seen.

Long moments passed as he thought about the cages. Never had he laid eyes on such creatures. They were gruesome, especially in death. He decided to have another look, not wanting to waste his time here.

The room was much the same as the first time he had entered except the overwhelming smell and taste from his enhanced senses was now subdued to a more manageable level.

He moved as close as he dared to the cages, cataloging the creatures within, and trying to understand what he was seeing. Many of them looked to be a mixture of animals and something vaguely humanoid. A few were clearly an amalgamation of different beasts.

They all looked as if they had been tortured and from the fragility and size of their bodies it was clear they had all starved to death.

On the wall next to the door there was a large table. On it were jars and bottles of all sorts of things. Large needles were lying in a row and papers were strewn all over the floor. There was a book lying open in front. It looked to be incredibly large and thick. The book was bound and covered with leather a shade of red that Dolls had never seen before. The page it was opened to contained intricate drawings of one of the beasts in the cage.

The writings seemed to be sporadic and the sentences half finished, but the person who made them clearly knew how to read it as the next inscriptions finished the first perfectly, only to be left with large gaps once again.

_‘A puzzle of some sort. No doubt to stop others from reading it.’_

Dolls reached forward and lightly touched the pages of the book.

He jerked backwards harshly, falling onto the floor as the book suddenly slammed shut, nearly snapping on his hand. He watched with widening eyes as it levitated into the air, a swirling mist of browns and reds encompassing the fluttering pages. 

The large book began to fold in on itself, spinning and shooting off little sparkles of shimmering light as it did so. Dolls shuffled backwards as the thing seemed to creep forwards towards him as it folded over and over again. Finally after a few moments, it suddenly stopped.

_‘Thunk’_

Dolls looked on as the leather book fell to the ground, the dizzying arrays of lights petering out as the front cover banged shut with an impressive, _‘thwump’._

A few moments went by before Dolls moved forward towards it. He stood quickly as the front of his boot lightly nudged the now normal looking book.

Letting out a sigh and a shrug he reached forward and scooped it off the ground, holding it as far away from himself as he could. Nothing happened. He shook it repeatedly as he looked under and above it, his keen eyes missing nothing.

_‘If this thing bites me, I swear to all the gods above I’ll…’_

A tiny slit in the spine of the book made him pull it closer to himself. He lightly ran his index finger over it. Nothing happened.

‘ _Hmm. Looks like the magics gone from this one then. Must be broken.’_

Dolls moved the now palm-sized, empty book into a pouch on the inside of his cloak. He buttoned it up and patted it lightly, as if to settle it down into its new home.

He looked around the room one last time as he shook his head and moved back out into the hallway, pulling the door closed behind him.

_‘Wait… the smell… its… gone.’_

Dolls looked closely at the door. Upon further inspection, he could just make out runes and symbols etched into the doorframe.

He felt a coldness at the tips of his toes and fingers. A coldness that seemed to seep deeper into his bones the longer he stared at the runes and symbols. He decided to move on quickly.

_‘Nothing more to see here.’_

The moment Dolls walked onto the fourth floor he knew he should have left. A feeling of overwhelming dread washed through his being like he had never felt before. The beast within him roared to life, faster and with more fervor than ever before, stumbling him back against the doorframe from the force of it.

His eyes scanned the wide-open room before him, a far bigger one than any he had seen. Multiple doorways led off from this room, as if they were afterthoughts to the architect.

Every wall seemed to be etched with some kind of symbol or word. Writings were scratched into the floorboards and the ceiling. Papers lay in piles and scattered on every surface. Bottles and jugs containing liquids and parts of things that made the beast within Dolls shudder with wariness.

Long tables littered the room, piled high with lab equipment and various books and tools. Stains colored the tables and floors where things had spattered, leaving dark or brightly colored splotches of wood behind. A large glass shelving unit stood against one wall. There seemed to be many different glass tanks on each shelf, some much larger than others.

Dolls watched through his amber colored vision as something seemed to move slightly in one of the larger tanks near the bottom of the unit. He moved slowly towards it, rearing back as a large snake snapped at the glass in front of him.

The snake’s eyes were nearly crusted over and blood and mucus stained the inside of the glass. It's skin looked dull and dried out, as if it were a slithering mummy of a snake instead of a living one. It was thin, incredibly so.

It had clearly been trying to get out for quite some time.

Shaking his head, Dolls moved from the tanks towards one of the rooms. He noticed that it seemed to have many of the same symbols and runes etched around the door frame as the one on the third floor. He held his breath as best he could and opened the door cautiously after listening but hearing nothing on the other side.

Dolls slammed the door as the overwhelming smell of blood and death engulfed his face. It was so jarring that he felt bile rise to the top of his throat, his mouth flooding with moisture as his body tried to purge the odor.

He shook his head and pulled out a handkerchief from a pocket within his cloak. He tied it around his mouth and nose as he prepared himself to re-open the door.

This time the smell was barely tolerable, but he knew he needed to see for himself what had happened here. He didn’t understand why, but he instinctively knew it would be important.

The walls were all painted the same color as the floor, a rust-colored brownish hue. There were tables lining one wall which held all manner of surgical implements. Dolls shuddered as his eyes scanned over every part of the room, glazing over the creature tied to the table in the center.

Large buckets were placed under and around the table and bottles and jugs lined another table off to the side. Clearly, someone had been interrupted in their work. 

He finally allowed himself to properly take in the creature on the table. It looked to be a humanoid creature of some kind. The amount of decay and the way the corpse had been mutilated made it impossible to make any details out.

Perhaps if he had run across it’s kind before than he could have made an assumption, but his experience with these sorts of things were pretty much nil.

He had only hunted humans before today. These creatures were rarely found in the towns that he visited, if at all. In most places they were considered myths or tales that one told their child to keep them in line. 

Dolls backed towards the door and nearly closed it when he looked down at the floor near the doorway. The area was spotted white and rust brown, as if… his eyes widened in dawning horror.

_‘By the gods… its not paint. Its blood! Every surface is covered in it! Even the ceiling! Who… who would do these things…?’_

He swiftly closed the door and leaned against it, moving his mask down to breathe in a lungful of air. His eyes lifted to the other rooms, many of the doors opened and clearly containing only papers and random books. Many held only a single chair or table.

He systematically opened the other closed doors, thankfully finding no other horrid beasts inside. He made his way to the last door, a small one, seemingly placed in a random location.

It was placed in the corner in such a way that it was fully hidden when the door to the large room was open. Luckily he had learned long ago to never open a door all the way. Peeking through the crack to see behind it could literally save your life.

He opened the door and immediately noticed how tiny the space inside it was.

He would not be able to fit in it himself. It was barely large enough for a child to sit in. He nearly closed the door before his keen eyesight locked onto scratches in the wood, hidden behind a few small boxes that had been stacked inside. He quickly pulled out the empty boxes and stared in horror at the markings on the wall.

It was clear that a small child had made them. They were pictures, barely, of a tall man in a large coat and a little boy. Some of the drawings had the little boy holding various jugs or handing something to the man in the coat.

It was not the images that caused the shock and distress to build up in Dolls’ chest, but the clear indication that these were painted on the walls by small fingers. Small fingers… and blood.

The child must have used its own blood to draw these.

Dolls sat heavily on the ground, leaning against the doorframe of the small closet. A small tear made its way down his cheek as he thought of what this child must have endured.

He couldn’t help his thoughts from drifting back to his own childhood; thoughts that he was certain he had buried long, long ago.

…

Puffs of air left his mouth in harsh bursts, spittle and blood dribbling down into the dirt just beneath his lips. His forehead rested on that same hard packed rocky dirt, hands clenched in pain near the sides of his head. His fingers dug into the ground, desperate for something to cling to.

The smell of earth and sweat permeated his nose as the sounds of goading amusement rose around him like a crescendo. The sun beat hot on his back and the small pebbles in the dirt dug into his knees. For just a moment, he simply tried to breathe.

A light breeze brushed against the side of his face, lightly stinging the open wound on his temple and causing a droplet of blood to move quicker towards his eye. His ribs and lungs ached with every breath taken and a throbbing pressure kept building inside his skull with every moment.

Xavier grimaced as he heard one of his attackers demanding that he get up. The laughter from the other children watching the brutal scene rose in volume as the other boys began to mimic their leader in his taunts.

Xavier closed his eyes tightly and for a moment he shut everything out.

He shut out the pain his body felt from all the beatings he had recently taken, the emotional trauma of growing up in an abusive boys home with no family to call his own, the hate he felt towards himself for always being the weakest and the smallest of the children; everything in his mind and body faded away for just a moment in time.

There were no emotions. No bodily discomforts. He could no longer feel the breeze on his face or the dirt beneath his crumpled body. Xavier’s entire being, for just a second, was quiet. Too quiet.

A small whine echoed within the endless black of his psyche until it suddenly turned into a high-pitched roar. Xavier felt something move, almost a physical thing, within his chest. He felt a warmth began to expand, encompassing every part of his being.

His bones began to slightly shift, knitting back together far denser than before. His tendons and joints elongated and strengthened as a white-hot rage burned through his nervous system, tuning him into his surroundings like never before.

Xavier released a blood curdling scream that caused every child in the dirt lot to freeze in place. The pain was excruciating. Every part of his body lit up from the inside, burning away the docile weakness and replacing it with a predator. 

His eyes snapped opened and he was on his feet in an instant. The boys who were responsible for his previous injuries couldn’t stop themselves from whimpering at the sight of his yellow and red eyes, a few relieving themselves within their pants.

Xavier blinked as his senses suddenly lit up like the sun. A bright white hue suddenly covered everything and he was nearly blinded from the brightness of it all. His hands came up to cover his eyes as the sounds around him abruptly slammed into his eardrums with the force of a steam engine.

The conversations of the women inside the orphanage were suddenly crystal clear and so loud that it seemed as if they were screaming directly into his ears.

The pitiful whimpers of the children around him assaulted his head with the volume of a hundred drums.

The light breeze suddenly felt like it was whipping painfully across his face and the clothes on his very skin seemed to ignite the areas they touched as if they were bolts of ligtning, shooting across his nervous system.

He screamed again, not from rage this time, but from terror. Xavier was use to pain, but fear was a new feeling to him.

He had never been afraid before. Not from the dark or the monsters that lay in wait under his bed; not like the other boys in the home. As he fell to his knees once more, he truly felt fear for the first time. He was afraid of himself.

…

Dolls snapped back to the moment as he turned to look at the drawings the little boy had made. He hoped this was the boy Mr. Grady had spoken of; that he had truly gotten away. Perhaps he could live a good life, far away from this torturous prison.

The sound of the serpent slamming its head into the glass tank alerted Dolls to how much time he had spent in the house. He stood up and moved across the room towards the tank.

For a moment, man and beast locked eyes. Neither moved.

Dolls lifted the tank door slowly. The King Vampiric Serpent slithered out, dropping to the floor beneath. After a moment more, the snake slowly made its way out of the room as Dolls was left to look around the main room once more.

Eventually he made his way out of the house and back onto the main street of Kalagee with thoughts of his childhood bouncing about in his mind.

_‘Perhaps visiting that old warehouse would not be such a bad idea after all’._

Dolls looked up and realized it was nearly dark. He had spent more time in that house than he thought.

He turned towards the Dewdrop Inn and began walking at a steady clip.

_‘A drink and a bite to eat first. Then, perhaps, to see where the night takes me’._

…

The warehouse was exceedingly easy to find. Clearly it was made to be so, as large holes had been cut into the sides of it, leaving only the pillars beneath it to hold up it's weight. The windows on it were busted out and not a single beam of wood looked to be straight or new.

The thing was massive, easily holding most of the townspeople on either the ground floor or the large second story walkway that wound itself around all four sides of the warehouses’ interior.

The crowds were yelling and shouting along to the sounds of fists meeting flesh as the second fight of the night began. Dolls heard the noise long before he had reached the docks.

With his hood in place, he stealthily moved through the throng of people until he was perched near a beam with a perfect view of the fighters within the cage.

Wooden post and ropes had been used to create a boundary between the steel cage and the people around it. The cage itself was large enough for ten people to comfortably fight inside it, let along two.

It was dome shaped and the thin steel wires had been twisted around each other in such a way that it looked as if there were no cage at all in the dim light. You could clearly see what was happening from every angle.

Dolls noticed women, a few he even recognized from the saloon, walking around with pieces of colored paper that matched the arm bands of the fighters inside. They had pouches strapped to their fronts and were making wagers with anyone who raised a hand. One made their way to him as he analyzed the sloppy movements from the opponents within the cage.

“Ya bettin’ on the fight tonight? Next ones three ta' one in favor of the house. Horse thief versus deputy Tymus.”

Dolls shook his head at the woman as she shrugged and moved back through the crowd.

The fight inside was nearly over. One of the men, presumably the horse thief, was face down and barely moving. Blood pooled beneath the gaping wound on his head. into the dirt below.

Dolls waited to see if his instincts were right about the outcomes of these fights. He was proven correct as the other man reached down and snapped the neck of the prone one.

The crowd began to cheer and shout as the door was unlocked and the dead man was hauled away. Young boys moved inside the ring with buckets and and small shovels, doing their best to clear away the bodily fluids in preparation for the next event.

Dolls left the post and made his way back outside towards the docks. As he rounded the corner of a smaller and slightly newer warehouse, a group of men appeared and stopped in front of him. The magistrate stepped forward, hands on the grips of the pistols at his belt and a smirk resting on his dirty face.

“I see ya found it then, eh? Good, good. Will ya be fightin’ tonight of yer own free will then? Or do ya need a little… encouragement, hmm?”

Dolls turned his head slightly as twelve more men moved up behind him from the shadows. His ears picked up the shuffling sound of half a dozen more lurking around. The total was up around twenty-five at this point.

Dolls had never fought so many before, and certainly not armed like these men were. He was no coward, but he was no fool either.

“And who would I be fighting inside of the cage? You?” Dolls watched as the magistrate threw his head back and laughed heartily.

“No, son, not me. You’ll be fightin’ six of my best men. That shouldn’t be too hard for ya, eh? After all, ya took down twice that just this morn, eh?”

“Those boys were barely men and mostly unarmed. They chose to fight me, not the other way around. What are the rules to this fight?”

“Well then, should be a' right proper show then, eh? Ain’t no rules, son. Only way that cage re-opens is when the person yer fighting stops breathin’ fer good.”

“Are you certain you only need six men?”

The magistrate’s eyes widened for a moment before a low chuckle left his chapped lips, the sound building until one of his hands slapped his own knee in pure amusement.

Dolls rolled his shoulders as most of the men around him began to chortle and smirk along with the lawman.

“Damn son, you are something ain’t ya? Alright, here’s the deal. You kill all six of my best fighters an' you walk away a' free man. No retribution, no bounty. Or you die. It’s that simple. I am a' man of my word after all. Those are the rules. Either you die, or they do. I think that’s pretty fair, don’t you?” The lawman smirked and looked sideways, chuckling with the man to his right.

“Actually, it’s not”.

The merriment suddenly stopped and every man in the area tightened their grips on their weapons. The magistrate’s face hardened as he straightened his shoulders back, taking on an imposing stance.

“Oh? And why is that then?”

“If it were fair, I would be allowed to wager a bet on the fight.”

The magistrate blinked his eyes once, then twice.

His face took on a picture of pure glee as he howled in amusement. All his men joined him in his rambunctious laughter. After a few moments, he lifted his hand and silence reigned across the area.

“Ya wanna make a' bet on the fight, eh? Six of my best _armed_ fighters against you, unarmed, an' ya wanna make a' bet?”

“Yes. And when I win, you will pay me accordingly and I will leave this town with no other conflict.”

The lawman shook his head and grinned.

“Ya sure are something, son. Alright. Ya got yerself a deal! Follow Kalem into the warehouse. There’s a' room there in the side where all yer things go, and I do mean all. If ya walk in armed then the deals off and I send all my men in at once. I’ll have a' wench find you to place yer bet. Then? Ya fight. Miles, go inform the women of the next fight. I want the house odd’s to be twenty to one. No one will bet on im’ otherwise an' I want my money.”

Dolls watched as a young man ran off, following orders, as another jerked his head and began to move. Dolls locked eyes once more with the grinning magistrate as he followed the deputy into a side room in the warehouse.

Small wooden crates were lined along one wall. A few young boys entered the room and hauled two of the crates out, replacing them with empty ones a moment later.

“Put all yer stuff in one of the crates. Nobody’ll touch it.”

Dolls arched an eyebrow at the deputy and watched as a matching eyeroll was sent his way.

“The magistrate may be a'… uniquely devious fellow, but he ain’t no liar. Lyin’ an' thievin’ are the two things he won’t abide by from nobody. It’s the only thing gets ya killed afore he puts ya in the ring. Yer stuff is safe, fer the time being. Until you don’t need it no more, a' course.”

Dolls stared at the now smirking man as he pulled off his cloak. His heavy arm bracers followed, and he released the buckle that held dual sheaths that were strapped across his back.

They held two vicious looking short swords, both pommels and grips were obsidian black in color and the leather sheaths had blended in perfectly with the studded leather breastplate he was wearing. He observed the raised eyebrows of the man in front of him as he suddenly realized that he was armed.

Dolls hid a smirk as he released the studded leather breastplate as well, carefully placing the items into the crate. A dagger from each boot quickly followed. He looked to the guard as he was finished, even twirling once with outstretched arms, showing a rare smirk as the deputy glared at him.

The door opened and the woman from earlier walked in. She was holding red and white colored papers in her hand, along with a white bandana. 

“The magistrate said ya wanted to place a' bet on yer fight?” Dolls nodded at the hesitantly asked question. He could tell from the uncomfortable disbelief that this clearly had not occurred before.

“Why has no one bet on themselves before? If they die in the ring, then what does it matter if they lose their coin?”

“Cause all the money they had went inta’ the crates, sir. Everything in there goes to the family. The magistrate has his… ways… but he ain’t a' cruel man. Least this way the family gets something from it an' the town gets vengeance and sport. Plus, a' lot of the fight’s money goes to the orphanages an' keeping the lawmen in jobs. That way we don’t have to pay em’ from taxes.”

Dolls nodded as he reached forward, taking the white bandana from the woman. He tied it firmly around his upper arm.

He bent down and reached into a pocket within his cloak as he thought about what the woman had said. He hadn’t expected that from the magistrate. It did make sense to him, though. It kept the townsfolk from rebelling if something “good” came from the death of those accused of crimes and kept the jails free from having to feed and care for those within it.

Not to mention the power the magistrate held from the fear it subtly inflicted on those within the town.

Dolls took a heavy leather, black pouch of his own money and added the little left from that morning’s fight with the street punks.

“The bet is on myself to win. Twenty to one was it?”

The woman nodded as she stared at the thick pouch in awe.

“Here. There’s 50 gold there, plus a few silvers and coppers.”

The woman and the deputy’s eyes grew impossibly large, her hand shaking as she reached out to take the money. She had never held so much at one time before. It would normally take an entire's week worth of bets being collected to raise this much, and that was from every woman working. 

“By the gods… how…”

“Head Hunting has its merits.”

Dolls watched as both heads snapped up to stare at him in dawning horror.

The door opened and three armed men walked inside the room.

“Let’s go. Yer up.”

Dolls rolled his shoulders back as he followed the men out of the room towards the cage. The deputy and the woman were left staring at his back, both faces ashen and pale as the implication of Dolls' words truly set in. The coins within black leather pouch clinked together as the hand holding it began to tremble. 

…

Dolls internally smirked as he watched the six men in front of him flex and stretch their arms, yelling and taunting the crowd, riling them up as much as possible. He noticed the winces as certain body parts were pulled in various directions, the limits in flexibility as hands couldn’t quite meet toes.

He noticed the direction each one moved as their shoulders and hands brushed against each other, the depth of breath one took and the moment one of them slightly winced from the movement of his ribs.

He observed the way each held their daggers in their hands, the way they gripped them and which muscles flexed as they did so.

All of this was noted in a split second in Dolls' mind as the door to the cage slammed shut behind him with a ‘ _clank’_. The sound of the chains being strung up and the padlock closing was the last thing he allowed himself to hear as he began the ritual he now knew by heart.

He closed his eyes and focused on the muscles in his body, picturing them elongating and the fibers within them rapidly twitching. He turned his focus to his joints and tendons, picturing them softening just enough to allow fluid movements without pulling too tightly.

He focused on his heartbeat, feeling the oxygenated blood steadily pumping out to fill his hands and feet with his very life force. He concentrated on his sternum, feeling the hum of the heat within rising slowly until his skin began to perspire and a fluid-like warmth engulfed every part of his body.

The roar of the crowd suddenly washed over him as the six men moved forwards as one, determined to end his life.

His eyes snapped open, the men freezing mid step as his red and yellow eyes gleamed across the expanse of the cage. The volume of the crowd behind them going steadily silent as more and more people witnessed the change.

The men nervously looked between themselves and out into the crowd towards the magistrate.

His own pupils blown wide as he realized how much he had underestimated the… man… inside of the cage.

He swallowed, thickly, and nodded the men forward into the fight.

Dolls stood completely still and utterly at ease as the men began to hesitantly fan out, gripping their daggers with renewed effort. A few tense moments of stillness were suddenly shattered by a glass dropping onto the floor.

Dolls moved.

Within two steps he was suddenly in front of the man furthest to his left. His fingers curled and thrust forward, ripping an eye from its socket. The blood curdling screams of the man barely started before he was in front of the one standing next to him. A palm thrust to the nose, with all the weight and force of his body, broke and shoved the bone directly into his brain.

As his limp form began to drop, Dolls pivoted in place, spinning, and driving his elbow into the face of the man that was standing beside the now dead one, causing him to yelp and fall backwards into the steel cage, slumping to the ground mere moments after the body beside him collapsed into the dirt..

Blood spurted out of his broken nose and the sound of his front teeth clattering to the floor was lost amidst the panicked shrieks of the man desperately trying to push his dangling eye back into its socket.

Dolls took a moment to watch as the other three finally registered what had happened. A heartbeat passed, the same amount of time it had taken Dolls to fell their three comrades.

They panicked, shoving and tripping over each other in a bid to get away from him. They clustered together at the opposite side of the cage, where Dolls had originally been standing. One of them turned and began pulling on the door to the cage, yelling at the men on the other side.

“Open it! Open it gods damn ya! That ain't no man! Open the fucking _door!!”_

Another one of the men joined him in attempting to wrangle the chained door open, screaming desperately at the nervous door guards to let them out.

The third man simply stood there, staring at him. The look of dawning resignation taking over his features as his eyes lost their initial shine of adrenaline.

The entire warehouse was utterly silent.

The only noise came from within the steel cage. The clanging of the door and the jostling of chains provided an eerie backdrop to the now whimpering man sitting on the floor, cradling his dangling, bloodied eye in one palm as the optical nerve tethering it to the inside of the socket quivered from the cool night air.

A low moan rattled out of the nearly unconscious man behind Dolls, the noise slightly high and whistling due to the sudden empty spaces where his teeth once resided.

Dolls watched as the two men at the door stopped, turning slowly towards him as they realized no one was going to let them out.

Those were the rules, after all.

One of the men by the door viciously gripped his dagger, wielding it in front of him as his eyes frantically darted around the cage, shuffling in place like a cornered rabbit. The man next to him held onto the door for a long heartbeat more.

He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, letting it out gruffly in a short burst of air. He repeated the process twice more before suddenly letting out a hoarse, earsplitting war-cry, flinging himself towards Dolls with all the accuracy of a newborn foal.

Dolls focused on the left hand that wielded the dagger. The man was clearly not aware that he still held one as he pulled back his right fist to make a wild swing at Dolls’ face. Dolls side stepped to the mans’ left, grabbing the hand that held the dagger, twisting it up and back in a smooth turn, placing the tip of it in front of the man’s own throat. Dolls held the hand tightly as the man’s momentum impaled him on the dagger.

As soon as the tip pierced through the back of the neck, Dolls released the hand, allowing the body to continue forward. He crashed into the wall of the cage, bouncing off and slamming hard onto his back.

A retching sound from the audience could be heard as the eyes of the man bulged outwards, the dagger quivering in his throat as he reflexively tried to swallow. Blood gurgled up through the wound as his now dull eyes stared blankly towards the ceiling.

Dolls' own eyes had stayed on the man staring at him defeatedly the entire time, not once looking anywhere else during the charge.

The man by the door began to cry; great heaving sobs left his chest as a yellow puddle began to spread on the floor beneath him. The sobs began to turn into shrieks as he worked himself up, knowing what his fate would be.

The high-pitched shrieks turned into a screaming yell as he shifted the dagger in his right hand, bringing his arm up and holding it level with his head, the tip of the dagger aimed at Dolls and the pommel near the man’s ear.

Dolls waited until the man was within striking distance and kicked his booted foot forward with the weight of his whole body behind it. It connected with the front of the man’s left knee, snapping it backwards and sending the man careening past him, landing against the pitiful one who had been left holding up his dangling eyeball.

The crash ripped the optic nerve from the eye socket of the simpering man, causing a gush of blood and fluid to stream out onto his face as a new round of screams erupted from his throat. They were joined by the sobbing cries of the man now clutching onto his badly broken leg. The dagger he was wielding now lay on the ground slightly pressing against Doll’s boot.

Dolls looked back into the eyes of the last man standing. He was staring lifelessly outward, as if seeing nothing in front of him; the blade in his hand barely hanging between his fingers. A single tear made its way down his cheek as his eyelids fluttered shut.

Dolls reached down and picked up the dagger at his boot. He slowly turned towards the wounded on the ground. He waited.

Not a moment had passed when footsteps moved quickly toward him. Dolls turned and snapped his wrist, sending the dagger in his hand directly into the heart of the man who had lunged at his unprotected back, the man's own dagger held tightly in his grip.

He stumbled to a stop, arms dropping back down as he looked at his chest for a moment. Disbelief and resignation warred across his face as he dropped to his knees.

Dolls sneered at him as their eyes met for a final time before the lifeless body slumped over, dead.

Dolls picked up a dagger off the ground. He looked out into the silent crowd and locked eyes with the pale magistrate.

“A deals’ a deal.” Dolls watched as the lawman’s face became nearly translucent at his words. He grabbed a fist full of hair belonging to the man whose leg was bent at such an unnatural angle. Dolls drug him to the center of the cage near the coward who had just fallen.

Dolls felt the fingernails of the man scrape the skin on his arms and hands as his pleas for mercy echoed across the hushed warehouse. He gripped the hair harder and shoved the man’s head forward, watching as the man grasped at his broken leg again, crying so hard that his eyes were nearly swollen shut.

Dolls drove the dagger up into the base of the man’s skull so hard that the tip of the dagger pierced through his cheek. A feminine cry was quickly hushed by a quivering, deep voice. Not another sound was heard from the horrified audience.

Dolls moved to the man now holding his detached eye in his hands. The man was rocking back and forth and mumbling to himself. A quick snap of the neck and he dropped forward into an awkward pose, still seated with his legs crossed. The eye held loosely in slightly curled fingers.

The final man left alive had fallen into a blissful unconsciousness from the pain of the nose break and from half his upper teeth being removed in such a violent manner. His death was just as swift.

Not a single sound could be heard as Dolls slowly moved towards the door. The guards on the other side of it trembling horribly as he motioned to be let free.

Dolls turned to look at the magistrate, a long measuring look. The magistrate seemed to leave his stupor, swallowing multiple times and squeaking out his orders as Dolls placed his hand upon the steel fencing.

“Let… let him out. Let him out. A' deals’ a' deal. Take yer money an’ go. Let him go. Let… by the gods… let him go.”

Dolls watched as the guards fumbled with the lock, eventually moving the chains from the door, allowing it to swing open.

Dolls moved out, his eyes finding the woman he had placed his bet with still standing by the small room that held his things. The deputy from earlier still standing by her side.

He made his way to them, the crowd parting before him as if he were the devil himself.

“I assume my things are exactly as I left them?”

The deputy nodded his head vigorously, tightening his hold around the woman. Dolls lifted a brow at the gesture. Looking at the woman he spoke quietly, “Perhaps you could collect my winnings as I dress, hmm?”

The woman hastily agreed, both moving to the side as Dolls walked past them into the room.

He located his belongings and re-dressed. He turned at the sound of the woman returning, holding out his hand as she cautiously handed him multiple bags of gold coins.

“He… here mi’ lord, uh, sir, uh I couldn’t fit it all in yer’ pouch. I, uh, I found the best one’s I could. None up to your standard a' course, but, uh, that’s the best I got sir. Three pouches full a' gold sir. An' the silver and copper be in this small one er’.”

Doll’s took the fourth smaller pouch and listened as the coins rattled around in it. He placed all four within the confines of his cloak; the cloak concealing them as if they simply did not exist.

“Many thanks.” Dolls nodded to the shell-shocked woman as he walked past her back into the warehouse. The magistrate and many of his men were near the door as Dolls made his way through the sea of people, none daring to stand in his way.

“I, uh, I mighta’ been a' bit hasty in askin’ ya to fight. But ya won and a' deals a' deal. No hard feelin’s, eh?”

Dolls cocked his head slightly at the wording.

“Asked?”

The magistrate paled as the men around him shifted nervously, their eyes on the floor, hands dangling listlessly by their sides.

“Uh, well, no. No, I suppose not. Every man gonna’ make mistakes occasionally. I’m man enough to admit to mine. I apologize fer my actions earlier on ya. I didn’t know you was a' Head Hunter, son. It never occurred to me. Is there anything I can do to make this a' peaceful accord?”

Dolls searched the man’s eyes for a moment.

“Walk with me.”

Dolls moved out of the warehouse and began walking down the planks of the smallish dock. The boats tied to a few of the piers filled the air with creaks and groans as the water splashed up around them. The smell of seawater permeated his nostrils as the gentle quiet of the night slowly helped to ebb away the adrenaline still thrumming in his veins from the fight. 

The magistrate quickly caught up to Dolls, quietly falling into step with him as they silently made their way through the noiseless town. They stopped when the front gates to the Laboratory stood before them.

“Tell me about this place.”

Dolls observed the lawman flinch and nervously rub the back of his neck.

“It, uh, it was the house of a' mad man. A scientist. Doc Spalding was his name. Reggie. Reggie Spalding. He, uh, he hired some of my men to occasionally bring him things they found in the forest. Mainly animals or plants of some kind. He ordered... the creatures or whatever from Purgatory. Most of em’ came over on boats. Man there by the name of Bobo runs it all. He, uh, he catches em’. The creatures an' such. Puts em’ on boats an' sends em’ to the highest bidders. Among other things. Spalding paid to have em’ brought to him. Used the tunnels under the house most of the time. They run the entire length of the town, they do. Legend says it was the little folks that made em’. Dwarves an' such. That the town was built up over one a' their settlements.”

Dolls watched as the magistrate took out a handkerchief and wiped his brow with it, staring up at the house as if he were reliving a particularly horrific memory.

“Anyways, the doctor had a' man servant that worked for him. Did most of the dirty work around town. Kidnapped a' few orphans, maybe a' wench or two. We couldn’t never prove it, a' course. I’ll be honest with ya, the coins he sent our way didn’t have us looking too hard into it neither, but he chose the one’s with no family anyways.”

Dolls clenched his fist and felt his eyes tighten as he looked at the lawman. Only a burning need for information kept his hands from ripping out the man’s throat at his words.

“One day he messed up. Real bad too. He brokered a' deal with Bobo for an artifact. Some kinda… I don’t know… broach or necklace or something. Said my men were supposed to be waitin’ on a' woman at the docks who’d be wearing it. Said she was from across the sea, from Euron, I believe. A countess if memory serves me right. Anyways, instead a' payin’ all of it up front like he always did, he decided to pay half afore’ and half after the woman came with the necklace… broach… thing. Bobo, he uh, he didn’t much like that.”

Doll’s narrowed his eyes as the magistrate took off his hat, wiping his whole head with the handkerchief. The man’s head shook, and Doll’s felt a bit of surprise flow through him as the man visibly trembled with the memory he was about to share.

“When my men unloaded the boat from Purgatory, there were three crates. Large ones. The smell was… it’s a bit of a' sail from here to Purgatory. It’s faster by land, more treacherous, but faster. By the time the boat had gotten here, well, what was inside the crates had started to spoil. We didn’t take em’ to the Laboratory like we always did. He didn’t pay us yet neither, and all of us got a' bad feelin’ about it, yeah? We opened em’. I’ll never forget it as long as I live.”

The magistrate took a deep breath and let it out.

“The first one contained a' girl. No older than twelve. Her face had a' hole through it, like it had been burnt straight down to her gullet. She was braided up like a' pretzel. All the bones broken an' such. A man was under her, but he wasn’t whole. He was in pieces. The next crate held two more men in pieces as well. The third… the third one musta’ been the woman the doc wanted. She had steel pitons, you know, the ones used on the railways? They was driven through all er’ joints. She was cut up and beaten. It was clear she had been… abused in other ways as well. There was a' note pinned to er’. Said, _‘Here’s the half you paid for. Perhaps in the future you will kindly remember to pay the full amount.’_

Dolls heard the pain in the man’s voice as he spoke of what he found in the crates. The child and woman clearly hitting him hard. Dolls could relate. He was incredibly sensitive when it came to children as well. The magistrate began talking again and the ire in his voice didn’t escape Dolls' notice.

“That was the end of it. The docks are teemin’ with people that time o’ day. Everybody saw. Nothing coulda’ stopped the town from going after im’. Not after that. They strung the one up that worked with him. A few said they saw him snatch kids and women but we wouldn't do nothin' when they told us. Damn near had the crowd goin' after us as well. We had to join in or they woulda. They skinned him with seashells, they did. Heard im’ screaming clear down the road. They burned the doc in the town square. The boy got away, they said.”

Dolls jerked his head towards the lawman.

“Boy?”

“Aye. The boy. He came over on a' ship, long, long time ago. Must be o’er twenty years ago now. Was a' small little thing. Came from beyond Euron. That’s all I know. Took him to the doc and never saw him again. Doc had paid a' small fortune for the boy. I was a' young lad myself, trying to take over as magistrate at the time. I needed the coin. Couple people through the years swear they saw im’ in windows an' such, but until the day they burned this down, nobody knew for sure. Couple of my guys saw him jump down into the tunnels. He was gone afore they could catch im’.”

“Which way did he go in the tunnels?”

“Uh… North? I think?”

Dolls watched as the magistrate turned and motioned behind him. “Turk! Come ere’ for a' minute.”

A tall man quickly joined them, staring at the ground and keeping his hands far from his weapons.

“Yes sir?”

“That boy you saw jump down in them tunnels? Which way did he go.”

“Um… North. North West, sir. Those tunnels turn around and end near the Cold forests, Sir. Quickest way to Purgatory, Sir, even going round’ the old pass.”

Dolls looked at the young man, who immediately began to fidget under his scrutiny.

“The old pass?”

“Yes sir, um, my lord, um… yes, the old pass. It’s a' throughway between Purgatory and the lower towns. It was the main trading highway for caravans. It shut down decades ago. They say the forest in the valley along the pass is haunted, my lord. No one who goes in ever comes out. Creatures roam those forests, sir, beasts the likes you’ve never seen. Demons even!”

“Quiet you fool!” Dolls held back his mirth as the magistrate slapped the young man with his hat.

“You don’t want nobody hearing that an' thinking somethin’ that ain’t the truth! Specially’ after what happened in this place. Not ta' mention tonight!” The young man looked contrite as he quieted down, thoroughly embarrassed at his excited display.

Dolls chose that moment to pipe up. “And how can I find this old pass?”

The magistrate waited a moment before rolling his eyes, swatting the young man once again with his hat.

“Oh! Uh, you follow the road out of town towards the south. There’s an old stone, about your height, has a' drawing of caravans etched onto it. Follow the arrow on it. It’ll take you back up north through the Cold forest. There’s a' few o’ those stones along the way that’ll take ya straight to the old pass. The part in the forest here is overgrown, what with no one traveling out to the road no more, but the road itself should be in perfect shape! Weren’t no trees or nuthin’ around it all the way up into the mountains. My father said there should be a' few signposts along the way, pointing towards Purgatory.”

“Is that where you learned this? From your father?” Dolls watched as the young man’s face lit up at the mention of his father.

“Oh, yes sir! He use to run his own caravan with my mother. They were small, not like some of the other’s. There were a' few whose entire families would join. My father said some of the caravan lines were so long that you had to wait thirty minutes for it to pass you by! There was one that he said was one of the longest around! He said you could always tell it was them cause’ the women all had hair the color of fire! They were all slaughtered up on the old road a' long ways back. Nobody knows who done it. He said one day they left Purgatory in a' real hurry an'…”

“Alright, boy, that’s enough. Go on an' get back there with the other’s now.”

Dolls watched as the boy nodded to the magistrate and did as he was told. The lawman turned to Dolls and sighed. “I swear that kid could talk forever if ya didn’t shut im’ up.”

“Pity. Information is never a negative.”

The magistrate swallowed a few times and placed his hat back on his head.

“Well, uh, is there anything else I can do for ya there, son? In the name of friendliness an' no ill will an' all that a' course.”

“I need a horse. A sturdy one. Enough rations for two weeks and two waterskins. One full of water and one full of grease.”

“Course! I… wait. Grease ya said?”

“Is that a problem?”

“No! No, not at all. Grease. Right. We'll get right on that. Yer leaving in the morning then? First light?”

“I’ll be leaving the moment you provide what I asked for.”

“At night?!? Through… right. Not a problem, son, not a' problem.”

“One more thing, magistrate?”

“Yes?”

“If you call me son again, they will never find your body.”

“…”

“…”

“I’ll get right on it.”

“Thank you.”

…

Dolls nudged the horse forward as night began to fall on the old highway. He had been traveling at a steady clip for days and the deep ache in his backside was very aware of that fact. A few burned out fire pits and semi-moist horse manure proved that _someone_ had travelled this path recently. A few someone’s in fact.

Dolls reached for a waterskin, the one filled with water, and brought it to his chapped lips. There had been a rain storm the night before and he was glad for it. After a long drink, he glanced further down the road and spied an old signpost.

He squeezed the horse’s flanks with his thighs, keeping a wary eye out as they trotted towards it. He stopped the horse and read the etchings in the wood.

_‘Keep out… Certain death within… hmm… doubtful anyone would willingly go in.’_

Dolls turned the horse and began moving down the road again, only to realize that the tracks he had been following were no longer in front of him. He twisted in the seat, tracking the boot and hoof marks into the valley beyond the sign. Cursing under his breath, he turned the horse around and paused at the road.

There were dilapidated houses throughout the massive valley, easily spanning weeks of traveling if one were to get lost. Dolls looked further in and noticed a large river spanning the valley with a smaller one a short distance behind it. Towards the back of the valley was a large hill, nearly a small mountain itself with how large it was.

Dolls looked down at the ground and noticed multiple sets of fresh tracks along side slightly older ones.

_‘There is no way a young man who grew up in a horror filled torture home would ever willingly throw himself back into something so similar.’_

Dolls shook his head and decided to continue towards Purgatory. After all, that was where his prey resided. He subconsciously patted a hidden pocket within his cloak. The crinkle of paper could be heard as he redoubled his resolve to collect the bounty in his possession.

The horse began to move down the road once more, only for a quick jerk of the reins to roughly stop it.

Dolls suddenly turned the horse and they began to make their way down the long, yet not too steep hill, into the valley below.

_‘I need to… find something. Yes. Something. No… someone. I need to find… someone.’_

The signpost’s glowing blue hue slowly died down as the sun began to sink further into the horizon, casting a long shadow of a man atop a horse and an old, wooden signpost.


End file.
